Drips and Drabbles
by Infernezor
Summary: A collection of stories I started and stopped for various reasons. The reason I am posting them now in this format is because Fanfiction begets more Fanfiction. If even a sentence in these stories inspires another writer to put fingers to the keyboard then the effort spent to create it has been worth it. If you want to outright use one of the stories, feel free. PM me. I'll review.
1. Contractor prolgue

**A/N: I don't expect many reviews from this little bit; it's just a prologue, a teaser for what's to come. I don't expect for everything said, mentioned, and referred to in this pre-text to make an entirety of sense. It will later on. However, any encouragement that you throw my way to release the first chapter will not go unnoticed or unappreciated.**

"It is an undeniable, and may I say _fundamental,_ quality of man, that when faced with extinction… every alternative is preferable."

**Prologues**

**Letters Sent**

**A Memo to the Chairman of the Oversight sub-committee from the Director of Staff:**

Dear Chairman,

I write today in response to your committee's request for more information about our program and the suspected incident at Research Facility 32-B. No doubt by now you have reviewed the reports sent by our agents dispatched to the region. I am sure you have seen the empty buildings, the barricades constructed by the survivors, the cryptic symbols written on the wall.

While we cannot say for certain, I share your concern that we have an unaccounted for asset on the loose. However, I take exception to your assertion that we were warned that this was a possibility. I would like to remind the sub-committee members that _anything_ is possible. Some things are probable, and this is what is. And my agency, as it always has, will continue to deal with what is, until it is no more.

**Line Break**

Dear Director,

Due to your busy schedule, we have begun interviewing members of your staff. I am certain you will let us know if this bothers you. Our debriefings keep coming back to a single subject back at Research Facility 32-B. Can you explain to us what this _Enigma _is and what you plan to do with it?

**Line Break**

Dear Chairman,

Rest assured that we have the situation under control. While the Reaper is proving to be an illusive enemy, our recovery agent is already closing in on it. I expect this incident will reach a conclusion soon, and I will be able to return to my research, hopefully without any further interruption.

**Line Break**

Dear Director,

We can all understand that a shift from autonomy to oversight can be a difficult adjustment for anyone, but especially for someone of your standing. In that spirit, we have attempted to accommodate your brief explanations to our serious inquiries. Nonetheless, I feel compelled to inform you that even our trust has its limits.

**Line Break**

Dear Chairman,

The Reaper is nothing more than an entity seeking answers to its origins. In these confusing days, from my perspective, this seems to be a very common occurrence.

**Line Break**

Dear director,

You program was permitted the use of a single Bijuu for implantation experiments. Yet, the department records clear show that eight other agents were implanted around the same time frame. Surely this must be a logging error and we expect a correction soon.

**Line Break**

Dear Chairman,

I understand your concern that increased activity would bring increased risk. However, our fail-safes are simple but foolproof. A dead or dying agents imbedded vital monitors and automatically notifies our recovery team, and we will be on the scene immediately to secure all of the alliances property.

**Line Break**

Dear Director,

I am afraid that your services are no longer required. Had you not been as inquisitive as you have been, you might have maintained your lofted position within our services. However, rest assured that will have the Enigma contained, and that our recovery teams will see that you are properly retired, forthwith.


	2. Contractor One

**A/N:** I'm not dead, just bored, and this is the first half decent inspiration for a story I've had in a while.

Therefore, since I am bored, I've done a bit of tinkering with the Naruto world. I'm not going to tell you flat out, you'll have to read it. How insidious of me.

_You could've been all I wanted_

_But you weren't honest_

_Now get in the ground_

_You choked off the surest of favors_

_But if you really loved me_

_You would've endured my world_

_- Welcome Home by Coheed and Cambria_

**Chapter One**

**Naruto Uzumaki**

The soft bell chimed the departure of the last of the even customers as they left, a smile on their face and bellies full to bursting with rice, steak, vegetables, and seafood. They left ' Hiba Hibachi's' with the employees just beginning the cleaning up. The blond chef behind the counter giving them a cheerful wave as he bid them farewell. His raw emotion was one of the chef's many endearing traits that brought customers back. The chef, Taro Uzaki, was seemed to always be smiling and laughing while his knives flew in a hypnotic display of precision as he bustled about preparing their meal.

Once the doors were closed and locked, Hayden, a small, brown haired busboy working his way through collage as a music major, spun around to face the other three occupants of the Hibachi restaurant, his face glowing with youthful enthusiasm.

"Did you hear about that murder that was discovered this morning?" He asked in his excited, high tenor.

"That isn't something you should be getting so excited about." Goza, the restaurant's chief chef and owner, said sternly, throwing Hayden a reprimanding glare, his thick bushy eyebrows meeting together over his jaded-green eyes.

Goza had served in the Fire Countries samurai infantry for twelve years, as his compact frame and thickly corded muscles would attest to, before he left the military and started a small grill in Konoha's market district. It was, as he put it, 'Living the life, peaceful style.'

"The departure of one's soul is nothing to get excited about, especially in such a messy manner as that was." Goza continued, rubbing the small patchy stubble that refused to grow properly on his scarred chin.

There was a clanging clashing noise and a reedy, sallow faced, man of middle aged years with a portly belly came clambering out from the back, his foot lodged firmly in a mop water bucket that he apparently had stepped in in his haste to join in the gossip.

"You guys talking about that murder that happened last night?"

"No, we're not. And you'd be wise to drop it, Yutin. We don't need to hear about any of your conspiracy theories tonight."

"I heard it was his ex-girlfriend!" Hayden exclaimed, completely ignoring his boss's warning. "She snuck into his house late at night when he was asleep and cut his throat," Hayden drew a finger across his neck while grimacing meaningfully, "while he was asleep."

"No, No, No." Yutin said, shaking his head pityingly at Hayden's youthful ignorance. "It was a ninja."

"I get no respect around here." Goza sighed, returning to his attention to the stove he had been cleaning.

"Ninja don't exist." Hayden said, wrinkling his nose. "You might as well be saying the tooth fairy exists. I haven't seen a tooth fairy, have you?"

"No, but I have seen a picture of a ninja."

Goza snorted disparagingly.

"I've seen that picture. It's just a blurry image of a man wearing a funny cape, holding a funnier knife."

"It's real!" Yutin insisted. "A buddy of mine is a photographer and he said he could tell when a photograph has been tampered with nine times out of ten, and he says this one is real."

"Then this is one of those times he's wrong." Goza huffed, putting the final touches on the stove and moving over to the tables and collecting the plates from where the last guests to leave had left them.

"What about you, Taro? What do you think?" Hayden asked, folding his arms and turning to face the chef who was still standing behind his grill, meticulously going over his knives with a white cloth.

"Hmm?" Taro asked, looking up from his cutlery, one of his blond spikes of hair coming down and poking him in the eye from the sudden movement.

"Weren't you listening?" Hayden asked, seeming almost offended.

"Ahhhh." Taro said, rubbing the back of his head in slight embarrassment. "Was I supposed to have been?"

Goza raised an eyebrow at his youngest chef.

"I find it funny that you of all people take the least interest in this."

Taro blinked in confusion.

"Why would that be, sir?"

"Well…" Goza floundered a bit, gesturing vaguely with his hands at the seventeen year old. "Because of the way you dress when you aren't on duty."

Taro blinked again, and then looked down at the brightly colored polo shirt and khaki pants that he wore for his job.

"I don't get it." Taro said. "I wear a shirt quite similar to this when I'm not on duty as well."

Goza pressed his lips together, narrowing his eyes at his blond employee.

"Yes, I've seen that orange monstrosity you call a shirt."

"Hey," Taro said plaintively, "that's hitting below the belt."

"Yes, those black, baggy pants with the dangling chains at the pockets gives everyone that has the misfortune to look at you the impression of the happiest Goth ever to have existed."

"Nice to know what my boss thinks of me." Naruto deadpanned.

"Hey!" Goza said, smiling and throwing up his hands, white cleaning rag dangling from his index finger. "I just calls them as I sees them."

Taro chuckled slightly, shaking his head in amusement and returning to his knife polishing.

"What were you saying about the ninja, Yutin?" Taro asked. "Don't tell me you actually believe they exist."

Hayden's jaw dropped in amazement as his eyes flickered between Yutin and Taro.

"This coming from you, Taro? Who talks with whack-o-"

"Hey!" protested Yutin.

Hayden continued as if Yutin hadn't interrupted. "About the possibility of mole men living underneath Konoha who will one day consume all of our carrots and dominate the world from a lack of carotene?"

Taro shrugged, placing his knife set on the counter and withdrew a rag from underneath the counter and began rubbing at the edges, trying to get some half imagined piece of left-over food that he might have missed when he'd cleaned it the first time.

Goza let loose a full bellied laugh, slapping his counter with an open palm in his mirth.

"I'm sorry," said Goza in between chuckles, jabbing his thumb in the direction where Hayden was mopping the floor, having negotiated the bucket from Yutin's foot, "But I'd have to agree with shorty here."

"I'm not short." Hayden said, stopping ceasing his mopping to face his employer, a small and rare frown marring his effeminate features. "I just haven't quite hit my growth spurt yet."

A smile tugged at Goza's haggard face. This was one of the perks of being the war-veteran boss: He could have a little fun with his employees.

"You're, what? Nineteen now? And barely taller than the tool you're mopping with."

"That's not true." Hayden said slowly, glancing at the top of the mop handle just under his chin. Scowling fiercely, another rarity, Hayden said in a voice that could almost be called 'raised'.

"Well, what about you? Did you get a face like a paper bag in the army, or were you born with it?"

"OW!" Taro suddenly exclaimed, clenching his fist and sucking on his index finger, his face set in a rictus of pain.

"What's wrong?" Goza asked, looking over at Taro with a raised eyebrow.

"Cut myself." Taro mumbled around his fist.

Goza shot Taro a slightly withering look.

"A samurai, you would never have made if a little cut has upset you this much."

"Good thing I don't intend to join the military." Taro said sulkily, still sucking on his fist. "You know how bad I am with blood."

Goza nodded blithely, looking around his restaurant. Yutin and Hayden were standing by the exit, ready to go.

"Good job guys, the place looks good. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Taro, I'll see you next week. You said that you needed some time off, right?"

Taro nodded taking his fist out of his mouth and washing his index finger in the sink.

"All right." Goza said, nodding to himself. "Lock up after you leave."

"Will do, sir." Taro said, fumbling a salute.

Throwing a lazy wave over his shoulder, Goza left the store, Yutin and Hayden on his heels.

Taro watched

The evening sky shone with an uncountable amount of stars, speckled like miniature diamonds on an inky black canvas. To some it would have been consider beautiful, wondrous even. It was the kind of night sky that would inspire poets world round, and have them up to all hours of the morning writing about it, describing its beauty to the smallest and most intricate detail.

They would wax brilliant on how the stars seemed to swirl in an endless vortex around a central point. They would rant and rave until they were blue in the face and frothing at the mouth screaming about how, in the center of that unnamed maelstrom, there was a single star, brighter than the rest, in which all other stars whirled around… Like a maelstrom.

To Naruto it was just a bunch of little dots, unattainable and useless, so he ignored them and chose to focus on the task at hand.

His apartment was about two kliks away. He'd covered half the distance from where he started, the academy, that was another one of the things he enjoyed ignoring. However, it didn't seem content to ignore him.

Three figures detached themselves from the alleyway just ahead.

"Hey, it's the eternal dead last, and eternally happy about it." The one on the left jeered.

He was about thirteen, wore a green shirt with khaki pants, long brown hair that drooped down in front of his purple eyes, probably a senior at the academy.

"Seventeen and still not a genin!" The one on the right snickered. "

He looked just like the one on the left, only taller, about four-seven, and had longer hair, probably the older brother to the one on the left.

Naruto narrowed his eyes slightly. He couldn't see a marking of clanship on the older brother, but it could be hidden beneath the baggy gray jacket he wore.

A Clan marking was what an academy student received after he'd graduated, after he'd been selected by a clan or family to serve for the rest of their lives. A fate Naruto had avoided thus far.

"What would a marked Genin be here?" Naruto mused quietly to himself.

The one in the middle of the trio cleared his throat, drawing Naruto's attention to him. The kid was tall for his age, shorter than the supposed genin, but still tall for a thirteen year old. He was also dressed in a gray suite, white hair slicked back with his his glasses pushed high up on his nose giving him the air of one who got what he wanted.

"What would the class president be doing in a place like this?" Naruto asked loud enough so that the three stand in front of him could hear him, rubbing the back of his head while grinning at Mitoharo Gato, class president and son to Gato, head of Gato corp.

Mitoharo had inherited the unfortunate habit from his father of dressing in expensive suites casually, enjoying the simple act of flaunting his power. It was also unfortunate that he happened to be the best ninja in the class.

Mitoharo smiled and looked up at the sky, seemingly ignoring Naruto even though he was baring his way.

"They say that each star in the sky represents a ninja, and that when a ninja dies his star falls." Mitoharo turned his attentions back to Naruto with a snicker. "This is, of course, complete bullshit."

"What do you want, Mitoharo?" Naruto asked, widening his grin.

Mitoharo gaze hardened, loosing any sense of joviality that it once possessed.

"What makes you think you can provide anything that I would want?"

Naruto frowned. It wasn't like Mitoharo to beat around the proverbial bush. He was usually far more direct when dealing with others. He stat up front exactly what he wanted and expected, rather than telling stories. Bluntness was also something that ran in the family.

"What do you want?" Naruto repeated, fidgeting slightly on the spot, appearing for all the world like an older boy being cowed by his superior.

"You know what I want." Mitoharo said, a hint of anger and impatience edging into his voice. He hated dealing with simpletons, and Naruto was the biggest one in the school. "You were a stain on my predecessor's otherwise spotless record. I will not allow your incompetence to blight mine. You will either put in the work and graduate this year, or I will be forced to find another way to preserve my record."

Mitoharo spun on his heel.

"Come." He said over his shoulder, and then began walking away, two goons in tow.

Naruto watched them go, only continuing on his way towards his apartment when he was sure they were gone. As much as he'd like to smash the arrogant prick's face in, that would draw far to much attention, attention he didn't want.

Naruto snorted as he resumed his walk back towards his apartment. It was late and he had stayed at the academy far longer than he had planned. But one of his teachers, Iruka, had held him up after class and insisted that he practice the forms and throwing techniques just a few more times.

A wry smile touched Naruto lips.

"After all, I only have one more year to graduate, isn't that right, Iruka?" Naruto asked the air glibly. "One more year before either Mitoharo or the clans dispose of me as useless. Five years failing the academy wasn't supposed to happen, and yet, here I go, managing to pull that off what was supposed to have been impossible."

It was a rather uneventful hour before Naruto finally spotted his apartment, six flights up a rickety building that appeared ready to topple down given just enough incentive or a particularly nasty breeze. Inserting his key into room six-twenty-seven, Naruto opened the door, the hinges giving off the familiar ear-piercing screech that he'd grown accustomed to over the past few weeks since moving into this joint.

Pulling his orange shirt over his head and tossing it onto the semi-molded sofa, standard-issue hip holster and katana following suit, Naruto walked over to the refrigerator and withdrew a can of soda. Placing it on the scratched counter, Naruto entered his room and came back wearing a tight, black combat-mesh shirt that tucked into loose-fitting black trousers, tied at the waist with a thin cord.

Naruto sighed, stepping over to the cabinet that hung on the wall beside the refrigerator, opening it and peering balefully inside. Pushing aside cereal boxes that predated his arrival, he withdrew a mask. His mask. For the most part it was a pure white, except for an orange paint streak that ran down the left brow, over the eye, and close to the straight red line that served as a mouth.

Heaving another sigh, Naruto placed the mask over his face.

"Just another evening." Naruto mumbled.

Shaking his head, Naruto headed over and stopped in front of the door to the master bedroom, snatching his drink on his way back. Taking his black trench coat and shoulder harness off the hook by the door, he slung the straps over his shoulders and fastened the clasps behind his back. Making sure his two combat knives were secure at either side of his chest. Naruto slipped his arms into the jacket, pulling up the collar to hide his neck, then, reaching into his right pocket, he pulled out a pair of combat gloves and put them on.

Running a hand through his blond hair, Naruto opened the door and left the apartment, stepping back out into the crisp evening air and closing the door behind him.

Flushing his body with chakra, Naruto briefly braced himself against the ground before pushing off and leaping over the railing and into the open air.

**Line Break**

The room ran a fairly simple setup, or at least it was one that wasn't difficult to understand or upkeep. The floral wallpaper in the master bedroom was peeling, exposing the mold beneath, and the master bed and bed-stand had been removed to make way for a chair that sat in the center of the room, making it's single occupant the focus of attention.

"You're back." The man grunted, opening one purple, blood caked, swollen green eye to glare at him with, his brown, bedraggled hair hanging down in loose, unwashed strands around his face. The once fine, green shirt he'd been wearing prior to meeting Naruto was now torn, crimson stains lining each rip in the fabric. Naruto had thus far done him the courtesy of leaving his lower sections and pants undamaged. That was probably something that was going to change tonight.

"I'm sorry, Yama." Naruto said softly, the porcelain mask distorting his voice giving it a tinnier, almost lifeless sound. "I was a bit delayed. Don't worry though, I brought you a gift to make up for it.

Yama had been a middle aged, fairly low ranking, Hagoromo clan member. His life would have come and gone without too many people noticing or caring for its passing, but, most unfortunately for him, he had gotten involved in a certain group that Naruto had been spending the past three years hunting down.

"A gift, eh?" Yama asked, almost sounding curious. "Knife or thumbscrews?"

"Nothing so unimaginative, but perhaps we'll get to that later." Naruto replied, grabbing the chair that had been resting beside the door, pulling it up and sitting on it so that the back was facing Yama with his arms resting on the top.

"I'll be nice and start our preamble and give you the chance to ask me a question, anything you want."

"Anything I want?" Naruto nodded. "Then tell me, why does ninja of your skill choose to protect those weaklings?" Yama asked.

"The non-shinobi you mean?" Naruto asked, popping the cap off his drink and taking a swig.

Yama growled, apparently expecting Naruto to take that as a 'yes'.

"First off, I'm not a ninja. I haven't graduated yet. As for why I choose to protect those 'weaklings' as you put it? It's for the same reason the clans don't do anything. It was agreed by the clans that we would rule from the shadows, with each sect fighting for domination over the other silently. Ninja do not bear offspring often, so in an effort to save ourselves from ourselves, and them. We disappeared into the shadows; minimize our input to maximize our output, as the saying goes. You know this, you would never have graduated from the academy had you not."

"But there are more of us now!" Yama exclaimed frantically. "Think about it! We are the chosen people. Those who don't have chakra fear us; it's only natural that they do. Two different species that share the same ground cannot co-exist with each other. We are the race more fit to rule this world. They are the past and we are the future."

Naruto sat for a moment, occasionally sipping from his beverage, staring impassively at his prisoner.

"Did you learn that from your superior? That little bit of rhetoric is far to complex for a simpleton such as you."

"Fuck you." Yama spat.

"Now that wasn't very nice, nor impassive. It's no wonder you are the first member of ROOT I've been able to get my hands on."

Yama actually grinned then, proudly displaying his recently lost four front teeth.

"That's the problem, you've gotten to me too soon. I haven't gone through training. I don't know anything."

"Training?" Naruto pressed.

The truth was, as little as Yama knew, it would be more than what Naruto knew.

Yama narrowed his eyes.

"Not going to be that easy.


	3. For the Love of My Son

**A/N: I think, therefore I am not.**

**Summary: **"The decisions you have made in your life have brought you here. What you choose to do with this moment, well, that's completely your decision."

Even looking back at the journey from homelessness to prosperity, I never lost sight of the one thing that truly mattered to me above all else, my dedication to my son.

My name is Minato Namikaze, and this is my story.

**Prologue**

"The decisions you have made in your life have brought you here. What you choose to do with this moment, well, that's completely your decision."

That's what my second-through-fifth grade math teacher used to tell the entire class before he began his lecture every day at the stroke of three twenty-six. He was a terrible teacher. He was always late, hardly knew the subject he was supposed to be teaching, but he gave great advice. I just didn't know it at the time.

But give me a break. I was eight. I didn't know good advice from a hole in my shoe.

If it's any comfort to you, I know the difference now. But it took me a few shoes to figure it out.

Even looking back at the journey from homelessness to prosperity, I never lost sight of the one thing that truly mattered to me above all else, my dedication to my son.

My name is Minato Namikaze, and this is my story.

**Chapter One**

**It Wasn't My Decision**

My feet pounded out a desperate staccato as we fled through the streets of Konoha. My eyes rolled like beads across a table as I glanced fearfully about, clutching my crying newborn son to my chest protectively. People were running to and fro like ants rebuilding their home after a careless human had the indecency to knock it over.

Hitching my son up a little further, I dashed down an alleyway, frantically making my way home with a fervor only a man whose protecting his family can know.

'_She'll be at home.' _I desperately told myself. '_She'll be at home and we can escape this nightmare together.'_

In a small section of my mind, I already knew that I was deluding myself. Kushina wouldn't be home. She couldn't be. My wife was dead.

'_No!' _I mentally chided myself, not allowing my thoughts to dwell on that most terrible of possibilities. '_You don't know that for certain! She was alive the last time you saw her!' _

It was true, I found her in a pool of water on the outskirts of town after a man wearing an orange mask with the funny swirls engraved into the material had burst into our home and kidnaped her right from in front of me, vanishing in a weird vortex that I had never seen before.

I burst out of the house to go and look for her. What semi-decent husband wouldn't?

Then, things went from bad to worse. The Kyuubi attacked, coming from seemingly nowhere and sending the world into confusion. When I finally found her, she looked at me so weakly. Her crimson hair was soaked from where she had been obviously crawled up onto the embankment. When I approached and took hold of her, I noticed that blood was leaking from the corner of her mouth. I was terrified, but she just smiled with a strange kind of certainty, took her son from my arms and staggered away without a word, leaving me stunned and without direction in the forest. It wasn't my proudest of moments.

Once I'd recovered my wits, I charged after her back into Konoha, where I could see the massive silhouette of the demon roaring as he moved through the town.

I never found her. Just my son wailing in an alleyway, partially covered in the small blanket I'd been carrying him in earlier, small tufts of his blond hair matted against his frail skull with a red-brown mixture of blood and mud. It was most likely a trick of the dim light, but I could have sworn I saw a strange glyph, so much like a ninjas seal, on my son's stomach. But by the time I checked, it wasn't there anymore, so I had to have imagined it.

I ask you not to blame me for my ignorance that I showed. At that time, I didn't know my wife was the heir to the Uzumaki clan from the country of Uzu. And I most certainly wasn't a ninja. I'd never been cut out for that kind of thing, two left feet, always tripping over myself. And I had thought my wife too gentle to be trained as a killer.

'_The ninjas said that it wouldn't get to the city. That we would be safe!'_ I thought frantically, leaping clumsily over a gray trashcan, nearly tripping over the handle on top of the lid.

'_What I wouldn't give to have a little ninja's grace.'_ I mentally snarled, as I recovered my footing, pulling my little Naruto closer to my chest as I ran. I was almost home. A little farther I thought, and then I'd throw open my front door and see my wife.

'_She'll be sitting at the table, dinner already prepared and waiting for me. I'll walk over and kiss-' _I stumbled over the lower half a corpse of ninja's corpse, flung all the way to the outer district when the Kyuubi had been rampaging through downtown. Gritting my teeth, I ignored the gore and resumed my internal rant. At that time, it was the only thing keeping me sane.

'_I'll kiss her cheek and be sure to thank the usual deliveryman when I see him. Ichiraku's has been so good to us since Kushina got pregnant with Naruto, making sure that she's fed when I'm at work late. Then I'll join her at the table and we'll tell each other about our day. She'll scold me fiercely as a dunce for missing her when she tripped and fell back at the alleyway. She was probably under one of the bags… or bins…'_

Tears leaked from the corners of his my as I dashed down the final alleyway. Our apartment was just on the other side of the small market plaza. Kushina and I had both spent days agonizing over which apartment we'd pick when we had finally gotten married. She'd wanted something with a view of a garden. I wanted a view of a market street. We eventually found where we had spent the next two years together. It was a modest three room, one bath, and a small kitchenette apartment. What made it perfect was that in the bedroom there were two windows, hers looked out over a small park garden, whereas mine had a wonderful view of the market entrance. We would spend hours together, holding hands, as we looked out each other's windows, whispering what we saw into each other's ears.

I felt and heard the destruction before he saw it. I heard the fire's roar as an intense heat touched my cheeks. Stepping into the plaza, I found that most of it was missing. Where once stalls and shop entrances stood along with their cheery faced owners, waving to potential customers, there was now a massive indentation in the ground. It easily thirty feet deep and long, shaped like a stick or log.

'_Or a massive tail.'_ I realized in mounting horror. Our home was gone. The last easily accessible remnants of my wife had been obliterated along with any possessions that lay in the house.

Retracing my steps back into the alleyway I'd charged down through previously, I placed my back against the wall and slowly slid down – like a raindrop on a glass windowpane - until my butt touched the ground. Hugging my son closer to my chest, trying to draw comfort from the contact. I had been wrong, about the house I mean. The tiny human I held in my arms where the greatest gift my wife could have possibly given me. I closed my eyes and passed out, clean streaks running from my eyes, a marker on an otherwise filthy face.

**Line Break**

**(Minato tries to file an insurance claim on his house but is quickly rebuffed by a woman who tells him "Yea, you and everyone else cutie. You're nine-hundredth and thirty-nine."**

**Minato asks how long that'll be.**

**It'll be a few months. But that turns into years. Back up's a bitch.)**

**(Consider changing to first person) It would be an interesting challenge. In fact, don't consider it. DO IT! It'll be fun.**


	4. For the Want of a Name

**A/N: This first chapter is highly extracted/inspired from Terry Pratchet's 'Going Postal'**

**I won't bother to describe what Naruto looks like, you already know, or can fill in well enough, I hope.**

**Chapter One**

**Team Seven**

They say that the prospect of being hanged in the morning concentrates a man's mind wonderfully; unfortunately, what the mind inevitably concentrates on is that, in the morning, it will be in a body that is going to be hanged.

The boy going to be hanged had been named Naruto Uzumaki by optimistic if unwise parents, but he was not going to embarrass the name, insofar as that was still possible, by being hung under it. To the world in general, and particularly on that bit of it known as the death warrant, he was Hayashi Tenzo. He'd taken the name Hayashi – early death – as a joke. Unfortunately, at the moment it was proving oddly prophetic.

Naruto took a more positive approach to the situation and had concentrated his mind on the prospect of _not_ being hanged in the morning, and, most particularly, on the prospect of removing all the crumbling mortar from around a stone in his cell wall with a spoon. So far the work had taken him five weeks and reduced the spoon to something like a nail file. Fortunately, no one ever came to change the bedding here, or else they would have discovered the world's heaviest mattress.

It was a large and heavy stone that was currently the object of his attentions, and, at some point, a huge staple had been hammered into it as an anchor for manacles.

Naruto sat down facing the wall, gripped the iron ring in both hands, braced his legs against the stones on either side, and heaved.

His shoulders caught fire, and a red mist filled his vision, but the block slid out with a faint and inappropriate tinkling noise. Naruto managed to ease it away from the hole and peered inside.

At the far end was another block, and the mortar around it looked suspiciously strong and fresh.

Just in front of it was a new spoon. It was shiny.

As he studied it, he heard the clapping behind him. He turned his head, tendons twanging a little riff of agony from the motion, and saw several of the wardens watching him through the bars.

"Well done, Mr. Tenzo!" said one of the guards. "Taka here owes me twenty yen! I told him you would stick to it! 'He's determined,' I said!"

"You set this up, did you, Mr. Genzuka?" Said Naruto weakly, watching the glint of light on the spoon.

"Oh, not us, sir. Lord Ibiki's orders. He insists that all condemned prisoners should be offered the prospect of freedom."

"Freedom? But there's a damn great stone through there!"  
"Yes, there is that, sir, yes, there is that." Said the warden. "It's only the _prospect_, you see. Not actually free freedom as such. Hah, that'd be a bit crazy, eh?"

"I suppose so, yes." Said Naruto. He didn't say "you bastards." The wardens had treated him quite civilly these past six weeks, and he made a point of getting on with people. He was very, very good at it. People skills were part of his stock-in-trade; they were nearly the whole of it.

Besides, these people had big sticks. So, speaking carefully, he added: "Some people might consider this cruel, Mr. Genzuka."

"Yes, sir, we asked him about that, sir, but he said no, it wasn't. He said it provided" – his forehead wrinkled at the effort of thought – "Occ-you-pay-shun-all ther-rap-pay, healthy exercise, prevented moping, and offered that greatest of all treasures, which is Hope, sir."

"Hope," Muttered Naruto glumly.

"Not upset, are you, sir?"  
"Upset? Why should I be upset, Mr. Genzuka?"

"Only the last prisoner we had in this cell, he managed to get down that drain, sir. Very small man. Very agile."

Naruto looked at the little grid in the floor. He'd dismissed it out of hand.

"Does it lead to the river?" he said.

The warden grinned. "You'd _think_ so, wouldn't you? He was really _upset_ when we fished him out. Nice to see you've entered into the spirit of the thing, sir. You've been an example to all of us, sir, the way you kept going. Stuffing all the dust in your mattress? Very clever, very tidy. Very _Neat._ It's really cheered us up, having you in here. By the way, Mrs. Genzuka says thanks very much for the fruit basket. Very pretty it is. It's got mangos, even!"

"Don't mention it, Mr. Genzuka."

"Lord Ibiki was a bit envious about the mangos, because he only got oranges in his, but I told him, sir, that fruit baskets is like life –until you've gotten the pineapple off the top you never know what's underneath. He says thank you, too."

"Glad he liked it, Mr. Genzuka, " said Naruto, absentmindedly. Several of his former landlords had brought in presents for "The poor, confused boy," and Naruto always invested in generosity. A career like his was all about style, after all.

"On that general subject, sir," Said Mr. Genzuka, "Me and the others were wondering if you might like to unburden yourself, at this point in time, on the subject of the where-abouts of the place where the location of the spot is where, not to beat around the bush, you hid all that money you stole…?"

The jail went silent. Even the mice were listening.

"No, I couldn't do that, Mr. Genzuka," Naruto said loudly, after a decent pause for dramatic effect. He tapped his jacket pocket, held up a finger, and winked.

The guards grinned back.

"We understand completely, sir. Now I'd get some rest if I were you, sir, because we're hanging you in a half an hour," said Mr. Genzuka.

"Don't I get breakfast or a last meal or something?" Naruto asked.

"Breakfast isn't until seven o'clock, sir." Said the guard reproachfully. "But, tell you what, I'll do you a bacon sandwich. Because it's _you_, Mr. Tenzo."

**Line Break**

It was now a few minutes before dawn and it was _him_ being led down the short corridor and out into the little room under the scaffold. Naruto realized he was looking at himself from a distance, as if he'd somehow unlocked the Hyuuga's powers and was inspecting himself from a respectful distance.

The room was lit by light coming through cracks in the scaffold floor above, and, significantly, from around the edges of the large trap-door. The hinges of said door were being carefully oiled by a man in a hood.

He stopped when he saw the party had arrived and said, "Good morning, Mr. Tenzo." He raised the hood helpfully. "it's me, sir, Hayden 'One Drop' Adem. I am your executioner for today, sir. Don't you worry, sir. I've hanged dozens of people. We'll soon have you out of here."

"Is it true that if a man isn't hanged after three attempts he's reprieved, Hayden?" Naruto asked, as the executioner carefully wiped his hands on a rag.

"So I've heard, sir, so I've heard. But they don't call me 'One Drop' for nothing, sir. And will sir be having the black bag today?"  
"Will it help?"

"Some people think it makes them look more dashing, sir. And it stops that pop-eyed look. It's more a crowd thing, really. Quite a big one out there this morning. Nice piece about you in the paper yesterday, I thought. All them people saying what a nice young man you were, and everything. Er… would you mind signing the rope beforehand, sir? I mean, I won't have a chance to ask you afterwards, eh?"

"_Signing _the _rope?"_ Said Naruto.

"Yessir," said the hangman. "It's sort of traditional. There's a lot of people out there who buy old rope. Specialist collectors, you could say. A bit strange, but it takes all sorts, eh? Worth more signed, of course." He flourished a length of stout rope. "I've got a special pen that signs on rope. One signature every couple of inches? Straightforward signature, no dedication needed. Worth money to me, sir. I'd be very grateful."

"So grateful that you won't hang me, then?" Said Naruto, taking the pen.

This got an appreciative laugh. Mr. Hayden watched him sign along the length, nodding happily.

"Well done, sir, that's my pension plan you're signing there. Now… are we ready, everyone?"

"Not me!" Said Naruto quickly, to another round of general amusement.

"You're a funny one, Mr. Tenzo," Said Hayden. "It won't be the same without you around."

"Not for me, at any rate," Naruto muttered sulkily. This was, once again, treated like kunai like wit. Naruto sighed.

"Do you really think all this deters crime, Hayden?" Naruto asked.

"well, in the generality of things I'd say it's hard to tell, given that it's hard to find evidence of crimes not committed," Said the hangman, giving the trapdoor a final rattle. "But in the _specificity, _sir, I'd say it's very efficacious."

"Meaning what?" Said Naruto.

"Meaning I've never seen someone up here more'n once, sir. Shall we go?"

There was a stir when they climbed up into the chilly morning air, followed by a few boos and even some applause. People were strange like that. Steal thirty yen and you were a petty thief. Steal millions of yen and you were either a government or a hero.

Naruto stared ahead while the roll called of his crimes was read out. He couldn't help feeling that it was so _unfair._ He'd never even hurt anyone. He'd never even broken down a door. He _had_ picked locks on occasion, but he'd always locked them again behind him. Apart from all those repossessions, bankruptcies and sudden insolvencies, what had he actually done that was_ bad_, as such? He'd only been moving numbers around.

"Nice crowd turned out today," Said Hayden, tossing the end of the rope over the beam and busying himself with knots. "Lot of press too. You've got _weekly_ out there. Probably because of that bank you robed by their office, and I heard that there is a man from _Ninja Atlas_, too. Very interesting pen on nobles they write. Looks like a lot of people want to see you dead, sir."

Naruto was aware that a black coach had drawn up at the rear of the crowd. There was the Sarutobi crest on the doors.

"Huh? What?" he said, in response to a nudge.

"I asked if you have any last words, Mr. Tenzo." Said the hangman. "It's customary. I wonder if you might have thought of any?"

"I wasn't actually expecting to die," Said Naruto. And that was it. He really hadn't, until now. He'd been certain that _something_ would turn up.

"Good one, sir," said Mr. Wilkinson. "We'll go with that, shall we?"

Naruto narrowed his eyes. The curtain on a coach window and twitched. The door had opened. Hope, that greatest of all treasures, ventured a little glimmer.

"No, they're not my actual last words," he said. "er… let me think…"

A slight, attendant like man was descending from the coach.

"Er. It's not a bad a thing I do not…er…."

_Aha, it all made some kind of sense now. Sarutobi was out to scare him, that was it. That would be just like the man, from what Naruto had heard. Sarutobi was a gentle Hokage and cared more about teaching people a lesson, than going through with a punishment. There was going to be a reprieve._

"I…er… I…"  
Down below, the attendant was having difficulty getting through the press of people.

"Do you mind speeding up a bit, Mr. Tenzo?" Asked the hangman. "Fair's fair, eh?"

"I want to get it right," said Naruto haughtily, watching the attendant negotiate his way around a large Akimichi.

"Yes, but there's a limit, sir," said the hangman, annoyed at his breach of etiquette.

"Otherwise you could go, ah, er, um for _days!_

Short and sweet, sir, that's the style."

"right, right," Said Naruto. "er…oh, look, see that man there? Waving at you?"

The hangman glanced down at the clerk, who'd struggled to the front of the crowd.

"I bring a message from Lord Hokage!" the man shouted.

"Right!" Said Naruto.

"He says to get on with it, it's long past dawn!" Said the clerk.

"Oh," Said Naruto, staring at the black coach. It would seem as though his Hokage had a sense of humor, too.

"Come_ on,_ Mr. Tenzo, you don't want me getting into trouble, do you?" said the hangman, patting him on the shoulder. "Just a few words, and then we can all get on with our live. Present company excepted, obviously."  
So this _was _it. It was, in some strange way, rather liberating. You didn't have to fear the worst that could happen anymore, because this was it, and it was nearly over. The guard had been right. What you had to do in this life was get past the pineapple, Naruto told himself. It was big and sharp and knobbly, but there might be peaches underneath. It was a myth to live by, and so, right now, totally useless.

"In that case," said Naruto Uzumaki, "I commend my soul to any god that can find it."  
"Nice," said the hangman, and pulled the lever.

Hoid Tenzo died.

It was generally agreed that they had been good last words.

**Line Break**

"Ah, Naruto Uzumaki," said a distant voice, getting closer. "I see you are awake. And still alive, at the present time."

There was a slight inflection to that last phrase, which told Naruto that the length of the present time was entirely in the gift of the speaker.

He opened his eyes. He was sitting in a comfortable chair. At the desk opposite him, sitting with his hands steepled reflectively in front of his pursed lips, was Hiruzen Sarutobi, under whose rule Konoha had become the city where everyone wanted to live.

An ancient animal sense also told Naruto that other people were standing behind the comfortable chair, and that it could be extremely uncomfortable should he make any sudden movements. But they couldn't be as terrible as the thin, white-robed man with the little gotten and the pianist's hands, who was watching him.

"Shall I tell you about angels, Mr. Uzumaki?" Said the Hokage pleasantly. "I know two interesting facts about them."

Naruto grunted. There were no obvious escape routes in front of him, and turning around was out of the question. His neck ached horribly.

"Oh, yes. You were hanged," Said Sarutobi. "A very precise science, hanging. Hayden is a master. The slippage and thickness of the rope, whether the knot is place _here_ rather than _there_, the relationship between weight and distance… Oh, I'm sure the man could write a book. You were hanged to within half an inch of your life, I understand. Only an expert standing right next to you would have been able to spot the difference, and in this case the expert was our friend, Hayden. No, Hoid Tenzo is dead, Naruto. Three hundred people would swear they saw him die." He leaned forward. "And so, appropriately, it is of angels I wish to talk to you now."

Naruto managed a grunt.

"The first interesting thing about angels, Mr. Uzumaki, is that sometimes, very rarely, at a point in a man's career where he has made such a foul and tangled mess of his life that death appears to be the only sensible option, an angel appears to him, or, I should say, _unto_ him, and offers him a chance to go back to the moment when it all went wrong, and this time do it _right_. Naruto Uzumaki, I should like you to think of me as… an angel."

Naruto stared. He'd felt the snap of the rope, the choke of the noose! He'd seen the blackness welling up. He'd died!

"I'm offering you a job, Mr. Uzumaki. Hayashi Tenzo is buried, but Naruto Uzumaki has a future. It may, of course, be a very short one, if he is stupid. I am offering you a job, for wages. I realize the concept may be unfamiliar."

_Only as a form of hell,_ Naruto thought.

"The job is that of becoming a Genin of Konoha." Naruto continued to stare.

"May I just add, Mr. Uzumaki, that to your right there is a door. If at any time in this interview you feel you wish to leave, you have only to step through it and you will never hear from me again."

Naruto filed that under "Deeply Suspicious."

"To continue: the job, Mr. Uzumaki, involves joining a team that has recently graduated from the academy and they are short a member. It was a mistake, really. One of my assistants failed to count properly and ruined the entire batch, leaving me to clean his mess up, et cetera, et cetera-

"If you stick a broom up my ass I could probably sweep the floor, too." said a voice. Naruto realized it was his. His brain was a mess. It had come as a shock to him that the afterlife was this one.

Lord Sarutobi gave him a long, long look.

"Well, if you wish," he said, and turned to a hovering assistant. "Iruka, does the housekeeper have a store cupboard on this floor, do you know?"

"Oh, yes, my lord," said the clerk. "Shall I-"

"It was a joke!" Naruto burst out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I hadn't realized," said Lord Sarutobi. Although the slight chuckle in his eyes gave Naruto the impression that he had. "Do tell me if you feel inclined to make another one, will you?"

"Look," said Naruto, "I don't know what's happening here, but I don't know _anything_ about being a ninja."

"Mr. Uzumaki, this morning you had no experience at all of being dead, and yet but for my intervention you would nevertheless have turned out to be extremely _good_ at it," Said Lord Sarutobi sharply. "It just goes to show: you never know until you try."

"But when you sentenced me-"

Sarutobi raised a gnarled hand. "Ah?" He said.

Naruto's brain, at last aware that it needed to do some work here, stepped in and replied:

"Er… when you… sentenced… Hoid Tenzo-"

"Well done. Do carry on."

"- you said he was a natural-born criminal, a fraudster by vocation, a habitual liar, a perverted genius, and totally untrustworthy!"

"Are you accepting my offer, Mr. Uzumaki?" said Sarutobi sharply.

Naruto looked at him. "Excuse me," he said, standing up, "I'd just like to check something."

There were two men dressed in black standing behind his chair. It wasn't a particularly neat black, more the black worn by people who didn't want little red marks to show. They looked like assistants, until you noticed the white masks.

They stood aside as Naruto walked toward the door, which, as promised, was indeed there. He opened it very carefully. There was nothing beyond, and that included a floor. In the manner of one who is going to try all possibilities, he took the remnant of the spoon out of his pocket and let it drop. It was quite a long time before he heard the jingle.

Then he went back and sat in the chair.  
"The prospect of freedom?" He asked.

"Exactly," said Lord Sarutobi. "There is always a choice."

"You mean… I could choose certain death?"

"A choice, nevertheless," said Sarutobi. "Or, perhaps, an alternative. You see, I _believe in freedom, _Mr. Uzumaki. Not many people do, although they will, of course, protest otherwise. And no practical definition of freedom would be completely without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based. Now… will you take the job? No one will recognize you, I am sure. No one ever recognizes you, it would appear."

Naruto shrugged. He may know a ninja trick or two. "Oh, all right. Of course, I accept as a natural-born criminal, habitual liar, fraudster, and totally untrustworthy perverted genius."

"Brilliant! Welcome to government service!" said Lord Sarutobi, extending his hand. "I pride myself on being able to pick the right man. The wage is based on mission completion and, I believe, tips given by the client at their digression. Your Jounin instructor will be giving me regular reports. Good day."

He looked down at his paperwork. He looked up.

"You appear to be still here, Genin Uzumaki."

"And that's _it_?" said Naruto, aghast. "One minute I'm being hanged, next minute you're employing me?"

"Let me see… yes, I think so. Oh, no. Of course. Iruka, do give Mr. Uzumaki his keys."

The assistant stepped forward, handed Naruto a huge, rusted key-ring full of keys, and proffered a clipboard.

"Sign here, please, Genin Uzumaki." He said.

_Hold on a minute,_ Naruto thought, _this is only one city. It's got gates. It's completely surrounded by different directions to run. Does it matter what I sign?_

"Certainly," he said, and scribbled his name.

"Your _correct_ name, if you please,' said Lord Sarutobi, not looking up from his desk. "What did he sign, Iruka?"

The assistant craned his head. "Er… Taro Zaki, my lord, as far as I can make out.

"Do try to concentrate, Mr. Uzumaki." Said Sarutobi wearily, still apparently reading the paperwork.

Naruto signed again. After all, what would it matter in the long run? And it would certainly be a long run, if he couldn't find a horse.

"And that only leaves the matter of your parole conditions." Said Lord Sarutobi, still engrossed in the paper before him.

"Parole conditions?"

"Yes. I'm not completely stupid, Mr. Uzumaki. You will be required to pass through the door of your apartment, the key is on the ring we gave you, every other night, or the seal we've placed on you will kill you. Simple enough, I think."  
"Dead?" Naruto asked, askance.

"As a doornail, as it were." Lord Sarutobi said. "If you're on a mission lasting longer than a day, your jounin instructor, or other persons of interest, will be able to see to the issue. Good day."

When Naruto had left, Iruka coughed politely and said, "Do you think he'll turn up, my lord?"

"One must always consider the psychology of the individual," said Sarutobi, correcting the spelling on an official report. "That is what I do all the time and lamentably, Iruka, you do not always do. That is why he has walked off with your pen."

Sarutobi ignored the indignant noise his attendant made. Focusing on the young man who'd just left his office.

Naruto had sure chosen an interesting way to grow up. He'd given the boy an unknown identity at birth, free reign of the village, and more than enough free passes by bribing the city watch to turn an indifferent eye to the boy's activities.

He was thirteen now. Naruto's criminal lifestyle was no longer amusing, or cheap. It was high time that the boy turned his attentions and talent towards more constructive outlets. Jiraiya would look after the boy now.

**Line Break**

Always move fast. You never know what's catching up to you.

Ten minutes later, Naruto Uzumaki was almost to the city gates. He wasn't concerned too much about the seal. He was good with seals. A death seal with a time limit and containment principle was a bit like a lock, and Naruto had undone quite a few locks in his lifetime.

No one had bothered him. No one had looked at him twice; no one ever did. The city gates had been wide open. The forests lay ahead of him, full of opportunity. And he was good at parlaying nothing into something. For example, at the first little town he came to he'd go to work on a couple of unsuspecting pockets. Simple thievery was usually beneath him but he had to start over somewhere.

But that would be just a sideshow, something to keep his hand in. He had a few _almost_ gold rings sewn into the lining of his jacket, a real one in a secret pocket in his sleeve, and another _almost_ gold coin sewn cunningly into the color. These were, to him, what his saw and hammer are to a carpenter. They were primitive tools, but they'd put him back in the game.

There was a saying, "You can't fool an honest man," which is much quoted by people who make a profitable living fooling honest men.

Naruto never tried it, knowingly anyway. If you did fool an honest man, he tended to complain to the local guard, and in big cities they were harder to buy off. Fooling dishonest men was a lot safer and, somehow, more sporting. And, of course, there were so many of them. You hardly had to aim.

Half an hour after arriving in a small borderline town named Benton, where the big city was nothing more than a big mountain on the horizon, he was sitting outside an inn, downcast, with nothing in the world but a genuine diamond ring worth a couple hundred yen and a pressing need to get a inkwell and paper to get to work on a counter seal to his little problem.

The world was blessedly free of honest men and wonderfully full of people who believed that they could tell the difference between an honest man and a crook.

He tapped his jacket pocket. The jailers had taken the map off him, of course, probably while he was busy being a dead man. It was a good man, and in studying it Mr. Genzuka and his chums would learn a lot about decryption, geography, and devious cartography.

They wouldn't find it in the whereabouts 6 million in mixed currencies, though, because the map was a complete and complex fiction. However, Naruto entertained a wonderful warm feeling inside to think that they would, for some time, possess that greatest of all treasures, which is Hope.

Anyone who couldn't simply _remember_ where he stashed a great big fortune deserved to lose it, in Naruto's opinion. But, for now, he'd have to keep away from it, while having it to look forward to…

Naruto didn't even bother to note the name of the next town. It had an inn, and that was enough. He took a room with a view over a disused alley, checked that the window opened easily, ate an adequate meal, and had an early night.

_Not bad at all,_ he thought. This morning he'd been on the scaffold with a noose around his neck; tonight he was back in business. All he needed to do now was find a fake beard and some pastels, keep away from Konoha for six months. Or perhaps only three.

Naruto had talent. He'd also acquired a lot of skills so completely that they were second nature. He'd _learned_ to be personable, but something in his genetics had made him learn it that much faster. People had difficulty describing him. He was… He was "about"… He was "about" thirteen or fifteen. On guard reports around the country he was anywhere between five 'two and five 'ten, hair of all shades, from mid-brown to blond, and his lack of distinguishing features included his entire face.

Because of his mastery of the Henge he was completely average. What people remembered was the furniture, things like spectacles and large beards on small, old men, so he always carried a selection of both. They remembered names and mannerisms, too. He had hundreds of those.

Oh, and they remembered that they'd been richer before they met him.

At three in the morning, the door burst open. It was a real burst; bits of wood clattered off the wall. But Naruto was already out of bed and diving for the window before the first of them hit the floor. It was an automatic reaction that owed nothing to thought. Besides, he'd checked before lying down, and there was a large water barrel outside that would break his fall.

It wasn't there now.

Whoever had stolen it had not stolen the ground it stood on, however, and it broke Naruto's fall by twisting his ankle.

He pulled himself up, keening softly in agony, and hopped along the alley, using the wall for support. The inn's stables were around the back; all he had to do was pull himself up onto a horse, any horse-

"Naruto Uzumaki?" A big voice bellowed.

Oh gods, it was a demon, it _sounded _like a demon, a big one, too, he didn't know you got any up here in the mortal planes.

"You can't run and you can't hide, Mr. Uzumaki."

Hold on, he hadn't given his real name to _anyone_ in this place, had he? But all this was background thinking. Someone was after him, therefore he would run. Or hop.

He risked a look behind him when he reached the back gate to the stables. There was a large silhouette in the window. Surely the man wouldn't be crazy enough to jump out the window after him.

The horse was alone in the stable, and seemed unimpressed to see him. He got the bridle on, while hopping on one foot. There was no point in bothering with a saddle. Hell, once he'd ridden without pants on, too, but luckily the adhesive helped him stick to the horse. He was a champion at leaving towns in a hurry.

He went to lead the horse out of the stall, and then saw the glow.

He looked down and kicked some straw away.

There was a bright white symbol glowing on the floor, joining two lengths of chain and a matching symbol on both legs of the horse. The only way this horse would go anywhere was by hopping, just like him.

They'd sealed it. They'd bloody SEALED his horse.

"Oh, Naarrruuutooo!" the deep voice boomed out across the stable yard. "Do you want to know the rules, Naruto?"

He looked around in desperation. There was nothing in here to use as a weapon, and in any case weapons made him nervous, which was why he'd never, ever carried one. Weapons raised the ante far too high. It was much better to rely on a gift for talking his way out of things, confusing the issue, and, if that failed, some well-soled sandals and a cry of "Look, what's that over there?"

But he had a definite feeling that while he could talk as much as he liked, out here no one was going to listen. As for speeding away, he'd just have to rely on hopping. He didn't have enough time to undo the seal chaining his horse.

There was a yard broom and a wooden feed bucket in the corner. He stuck the head of the broom under his armpit to make a crutch, and grabbed the bucket handle as heavy footsteps thudded toward the stable door. When the door was pushed open, he swung the bucket as hard as he could, and felt it shatter. Splinters filled the air. A moment later, there was the thump of a heavy body hitting the ground.

Naruto hopped over it and plunged unsteadily into the dark

Something as tough and hard as a shackle snapped around his good ankle. He hung from the broom handle for a second, and then collapsed.

"Hello there, Naruto!" Boomed the voice cheerfully.

Naruto groaned. The broom must have been kept as an ornament, because it certainly hadn't been used much on the accumulations in the stable yard. On the positive side, this meant he had fallen into something soft. On the negative side, this meant he had fallen into something soft.

Someone grabbed a handful of his jacket and lifted him bodily out of the muck.

"Up we go, Naruto."

"What the hell are you." Naruto moaned. He'd hit the man with a bucket in the face.

"I'm one of your instructors, Naruto!"

Naruto managed to turn around, and looked up, and then up again, into the white haired man's face, two big brown eyes staring happily back out at him.

"A Sannin? You're a Sannin!" Naruto was now quite sure that Sarutobi had lost his mind.

The man picked him up in one hand and slung him over its shoulder. He stepped out from the stables and Naruto, upside down with his nose pressed against the Sanin's red vest, realized that he was going to be carried like this the entire way back.

"We've got to hurry, Naruto. You have your first team meeting at eight o'clock tomorrow. We mustn't keep them waiting."  
Naruto groaned.

**Line Break**

Naruto wondered what _exactly_ he'd done to deserve his fate.

He'd always made a point to avoid ninjas throughout his career. They were like the city watch, only faster, stronger, and _supposedly_ smarter. They also were very proficient in the application and removal of sharp objects from flesh. If fact, they'd built a profession on it. Now, quite suddenly, he'd found himself part of their ranks. He just had no clue how to _do_ the job. So he sat unhappily on top of the middle of three posts, juxtaposed between his two new, and hopefully brief, 'teammates'. The raven-haired grump glared, as he'd been doing for the past twenty minutes, into the middle space with single-minded intensity, as if the freak got off on his own anger for some reason. The girl with a most fascinatingly bright shade of pink hair had already made it clear that the grump, Sas…Sas ha something, he hadn't really been paying attention, and herself were the superior ninja in the group.

This was a claim he wasn't going to dispute anytime soon, as, until yesterday, he hadn't even been a ninja himself. He was quite sure that she and Sas-something would have a long and prosperous career as ninja, aided only when he'd figured out how to extricate himself from the Sannin's watchful eye.

A Blood Seal. That was the only way he could think of that the white-haired giant could have found him so easily. Where they could have placed it on him, he had no idea, and hadn't had the proper time to check as of yet. Jiraiya may not have had eyes on him constantly, but he could sense his attention lingering on him like a bad stench.

The white haired giant in question stood relaxed, in that insufferably smug way people who have absolute control over you do, by a red oak, his arms folded in front of his chest, peering over the shoulder of a thin, scarecrow of a man with a metal plate of some construction covering his right eye while holding his gray hair up at an improbable angle. He had an orange book open in his hands of which the two of them were discussing the contents in hushed, conspiratorial whispers.

How the Sannin could appear so energetic and cheerful when he'd carried Naruto through the night, he would never know, but it made him sick just thinking about it.

His two new 'friends' also possessed the same plate that covered his teacher's hair. Sas-a-something and his cohort wore their shiny bits of metal over their forehead, as if head injuries were more prevalent than any other types of injury in their line of work. Naruto was no fool, he'd seen the pictures and recruitment posters.

_My line of work for now,_ Naruto thought, _Oh gods, I'll have to learn how to look intimidating._

He'd never had to look intimidating before. He could look cheerful, friendly, personable, sad, or insane at a drop of a coin. But he'd never needed to appear threatening or imposing in his life.

Naruto decided that he'd probably best get a start on that.

_It'll have to be something between a glare and smile,_ he decided, twisting his face into a passable impression of a perverted leer.

No, he decided, the harsh glares vaunted by his new profession weren't a natural gift of his. Like all things in his life, he'd work on it.

"All right." Said Jiraiya, looking up from the scarecrow's book, his eyes fixating on their little group with an interest that unnerved the ex-con. "I do believe it's about time we got this meeting started."

"It's about time!" Pinkie yelled indignantly. "We've been sitting here for hours!"

Jiraiya waved her off with the professional dismissal of someone who didn't care.

"That's fine. It teaches you patience. You'll need some of that for when you are staked out in a mud pit with nothing but ration bars for weeks on end."

Naruto watched with some amusement as the color drained from Sakura's face as she imagined that particularly unpleasant scenario. It didn't sound so bad to him. A little food would have been quite welcome when he'd been waiting for the opportune moment to slip into the Hyuuga's compound.

The scarecrow closed his book, slipping it into his pocket with a furtive, almost secretive, motion. Stepping forward, he gave a weird smile. Weird, since a black mask covered his mouth, he had somehow managed to curve his single, visible eye up in a 'U' shape, definitively giving the impression of a smile.

Naruto had worked with people for quite some time, but never before in all of his travels had he ever seen a smile quite like that. He had to bite back a rather personal question as to how the hell he'd accomplished it.

"Let's start with introductions. You first, Blondie." Said Scarecrow, pointing at Naruto.

Naruto blinked owlishly. He had no idea how _exactly_ he was supposed to introduce himself. He was in the military now, so it'd have to be professional. He only hoped his survival wasn't on the line for this.

He leapt from the stump and stood ramrod straight, giving the best and most professional salute he could. Taking in a deep breath, he shouted in a crisp, decisive voice, "My name is Naruto Uzumaki, sir! I'm thirteen and enjoy noodles and," he floundered for a moment, "I enjoy noodles and killing people with my ninja skills, sir! I don't like the city watc- I don't like mice and magicians, sir!"

Sitting back down on his stump, he fervently hoped that was a good enough introduction for a military foot soldier to make. He'd never seen very many war movies, he'd never had the time, but that seemed to be the normal sergeants and captains to expect from their inferiors.

There were a few awkward moments as everyone stared at him, as if he'd grown a second head. Was his introduction that bad? Should he have been a bit louder?

"That was… interesting." Jiraiya said slowly with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe I should have gone first," Scarecrow said, "to give you guys an idea of how it should be done."

Naruto felt that would have been a splendid idea had it occurred a minute ago.

Scarecrow cleared his throat, blinked twice, and then said in a clear voice, "My name is Kakashi Hatake." Kakashi shot a look at Jiraiya who was looking at him impassively. "I used to be an ANBU captain. I have logged over six hundred and twenty jutsu for Konoha's repository; however, I have a working knowledge of just over one-thousand. My main specialty is lightening based Ninjutsu, although I have a decent second affinity with water. I like reading and dislike green spandex."

Naruto felt somewhat embarrassed. Not once during Kakashi's introduction did he shout or say, 'you maggots' like he'd seen in the movies. If Naruto hadn't known better, he could have sworn that Kakashi was a normal person, and not a ninja. Really, the Jounin standing in front of him was soundly smashing Naruto's views that the ninjas were a bunch of bloodthirsty and rapacious killing machines.

Naruto cut a glance at Jiraiya. Now there was a man who _was_ sadistic enough to be crazed and bloodthirsty. The friendly red jacket was just a clever front. Naruto knew that any man who could carry someone at breakneck speeds for an entire night and still have enough energy to be teaching young killers in the morning had to be psychopath.

Jiraiya caught him staring and raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

Naruto held the gaze for a long as he dared before breaking and looking away. That man. NO. That _thing_ wasn't human, couldn't be human. Naruto considered himself an athletic, especially for his age. Sure, his upper body could probably use some work, but he was very fast. He'd had to be when he'd started out on perfecting his craft.

He could run flat out for a couple of hours and only be slightly winded. But that thing had been running and jumping at speeds that made Naruto's seem like a casual walk throughout the evening.

Naruto frowned, tuning out Sas-ha-something's introduction. Why did the Sannin run through the night? He'd stolen a horse to get as far as he did that day. The Sannin had easily cut a faster pace than his mount had so why had he run that long?

_I'm not going to ask him._ Thought Naruto.

Whatever the crazy person's reason it was probably asinine. Maybe the Sannin had just enjoyed hearing him scream.

"You should probably pay attention." Came the Sannin's voice from behind Naruto.

Naruto started and spun around, only to encounter empty air where a body should have been. Glancing around he discovered to find that the Sannin had disappeared.

"Where'd the Sannin go?" Naruto asked, forgetting for a moment that he was in the military and probably should have put a 'sir' after that.

Kakashi looked at the rock where the Sannin had been sitting before turning back and shrugging.

"Guess he got bored and left."

This did very little to comfort Naruto.

"I just heard him a moment ago." Said Naruto.

"Really now?" asked Kakashi, managing to sound almost interested. "What did he say?"

"He said that I should be paying attention." Naruto answered automatically, his mind to preoccupied with his eyes in their search for the Sannin to see how his words might have been taken.

"That sounds like very good advice." Kakashi said with a nod. "Maybe we should help you focus."  
Naruto froze, horrible visuals coming to mind. Thumbtacks, screws, very sharp needles along with their many and varied uses all presented themselves to Naruto consciousness for his immediate and heart felt perusal.

"How about a spar?" Kakashi suggested.

Naruto wasn't entirely sure if he should be afraid or relieved.

"Sasuke, how about you go first. Let's see what Naruto here can do."

The grump, Sasuke, grunted and pushed himself off the post where he crossed to the middle of the field and slipped into a defensive stance.

Naruto was not pleased with the angry, anticipatory expression sitting on the grump's face like an over ripe tomato. It was a face that told Naruto that the blows weren't going to gentle nor would they be infrequent.

Naruto's gut instinct, located just above his common sense and below his good graces, told him that the grump wasn't entire mentally stable. To date, he'd only failed to heed his first impressions once, and that had ended with him being hung a few weeks later. While that had turned out all right, there was no guarantee that this would end as happily as that had.

"Ahh," Said Naruto nervously, rubbing the back of his head, "I'm not much for sparing. If you have a nice desk job, that'd be brilliant. I can sort your papers and such."

Maybe Kakashi hadn't been told all the details about him joining the team. A ninja's business was supposedly a secret thing, after all. With Jiraiya missing, maybe he could talk his way out of this whole mess.

"No," Said Kakashi, crushing Naruto's budding hopes with a single frankly spoken word, "I don't think Lord Sarutobi has any openings on his secretary staff at present." He paused, and then continued with his twisted eye smile. "They're all hung up… you could say."

He'd been told.

"Off with you then," Naruto's new Jounin instructor told Naruto with far too much cheer for his liking. "Best not keep your opponent waiting."

Naruto slouched over to stand a few feet away from Sasuke, once again calling upon his movie knowledge to save him in his present crisis.

_How did Princess Gale stand in that one movie again?_ Naruto wondered, shuffling his feet into what he hoped was a fighting stance.

Sasuke's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What kind of Taijutsu stance is that? I haven't seen it before."

Taijutsu stance? Was that what they called it? All of this learning was already making Naruto sore.

"An ancient and powerful style." Was what he said, trying his intimidating scowl again. "You'd best withdraw now, before you get hurt."

Yes, it was the deadly and ancient style of bullshit, of which Naruto was a humble practitioner.

Sasuke scowled, bring Naruto some measure of hope that he'd not take the chance and withdraw.

"Let's see this style, then." Sasuke said, bringing his hands up in preparation.

_Hope's a whore._ Naruto concluded with ever growing certainty.

"Begin." Kakashi declared with a drop of his hand.

Sasuke darted forward, and for the second time in so many days, Naruto found himself out classed. Sasuke easily batted aside his hands with a casual, disdainful grace, while at the same time slipping his leg in between Naruto's own. An abrupt shoulder charge from Naruto's opponent sent him sprawling to the ground, tripping over Sasuke's leg as he went.

Naruto hit ground with a muffled thump, as if even the ground was amazed at how poorly he'd preformed.


	5. Gods Will be Watching Prologue

**A/N: **Hello. This prologue goes a bit beyond inspired by _Stormlight,_ by Brandon Sanderson. I enjoyed the setting he made and intend to make use of it.

**Prologue**

Sorin rounded a rocky stone ridge and stumbled to a stop before the body of a dying Fragment. The segment of the Juubi lying on its side was enormous, rib like protrusions from its chest broken and cracked. The monstrosity was vaguely skeletal shaped, with a single, burning red eye in the center of what passed for its face.

Even after all these years, seeing a Fragment up close made Sorin shiver. The beast's hand was half the length of a man's leg. He'd seen men crushed by hands like those before, and it hadn't been pleasant.

Of course, dying rarely was.

He rounded the creature, picking his way more carefully across the battlefield. The plain was a misshapen rock and stone, natural pillars rising around him, bodies littering the ground. Few plants lived here.

The stone ridges and mounds bore numerous scars. Some were shattered, blasted-out sections where Chakra Users had fought. Less frequently, he passed cracked, oddly shaped hollows where Juubi's Fragments crashed into the earth from where they were cast off.

Many of the bodies around him were human; many were not. Blood mixed. Red. Green. Violet. Though none of the bodies around him stirred, an indistinct haze of sounds hung in the air. Moans of pain, cries of grief. They did not seem like the sounds of victory. Smoke curled from the occasional patches of growth or heaps of burning corpses. Even some of the sections of rock smoldered. The Chakra users had done their work well.

_But I survived,_ Sorin thought, hand clutching his breast as he hastened to the meeting place. _I actually survived._

The meeting place was in the shadow of a large rock formation, a spire rising into the sky. As always, the ten of them had decided upon it before the battle. The survivors would make their way here. Oddly, only one of the others was waiting for him. Hagoromo. Had the other eight all died? It was possible. The battle had been so furious this time, one of the worst. The enemy was growing increasingly tenacious.

But no. Sorin frowned as he stepped up to the base of the spire. Three magnificent weapons stood proudly here, driven point- first into the stone ground, except for Hagoromo's staff, which was driven haft into stone. Each was a masterly work of art, flowing in design, inscribed with the sage's seals and patterns. He recognized each one. Two daggers were buried up to it's hilt in a stone resting in the middle of the room, what was visible of the two weapons was wrapped in black cloth. Driven into the same stone was a scythe, six feet in length with a blade that curled like the talons on a praying mantis. If their masters had died, the Weapons would have vanished.

"Hagoromo?"

The figure in white and blue glanced toward him. Even after all these years of war, Hagoromo looked young, like a man barely into his thirtieth year. His short black beard was neatly trimmed, though his once-fine clothing was scorched and stained with blood. He folded his arms behind his back as he turned to Sorin.

"What is this, Hagoromo?" Sorin asked. "Where are the others?"

"Departed." Hagoromo's voice was calm, deep, regal. Though he hadn't worn a crown since his mother's, the former queen and war-ender, fall. He always seemed to know what to do. "You might call it a miracle. Only one of us died this time."

"Keeba," Sorin said. His was the only blade unaccounted for.

"Yes. He died holding that passage by the northern waterway."

Sorin nodded. Keeba had a tendency to choose seemingly hopeless fights and win them. He also had a tendency to die in the process, depending on Hagoromo to resurrect him once his soul had gone through _that_ place. The place that he dreaded. Back to that place of pain and fire, of hooks that seared into the flesh, burned the fat and pierced the bone. The place of nightmares.

Sorin found himself shaking. When had he become so weak? "Hagoromo, I can't fight this war anymore." Sorin whispered the words, stepping up and gripping the other man's arm. "I can't."

Sorin felt something within him break at the admission. How long had it been? Centuries, perhaps millennia, of torture during the brief times they died and were brought back to fight again. It was so hard to keep track. Those fires, those hooks. He could smell it. God, he could _smell_ it!

"Leave your sword," Hagoromo said.

"What?"

Hagoromo nodded to the stone that held the other's weapons.

"I was waiting for you. We weren't certain if you had survived. A… a decision has been made. It is time for this war to end."

Sorin felt a sharp stab of horror. "What will that do?"

"Sasurin believes that so long as there is one of us still bound the Juubi, it may be enough. There is a chance we might end this endless war."

Sorin looked into the Sage's eyes. Black smoke rose from a small patch to their left. Groans of the dying haunted them from behind. There, in Hagoromo's eyes, Sorin saw anguish and grief. Perhaps even cowardice. This was a man hanging from a cliff by a thread.

_Gods above,_ Sorin thought. _You're broken too, aren't you?_ They all were.

Sorin turned and walked to the side, where a low ridge overlooked part of the battlefield.

There were so many corpses, and among them walked the living. Men in armor carrying spears topped by steel heads. Juxtaposed between them were others in a light mail, carrying swords. Behind them walked men dressed in leather, thin tendrils of chakra still trailing their frames that gave them an eerie glow.

Hagoromo stepped up beside him.

"They see us as divinities," Sorin whispered. "They rely upon us, Hagoromo. We're all that they have."

"They have the Chakra Users. That will be enough."

Sorin shook his head. "He will not remain bound by this, the Juubi. The beast will break out again. You know he will."

"Perhaps." The sage offered no further explanation.

"And Keeba?" Sorin asked. _The flesh burning. The fires. The pain over and over and over…_

"Better that one man should suffer than a world," Hagoromo whispered. He seemed so cold. Like a shadow caused by heat and light falling on someone honorable and true, casting this black imitation behind.

Hagoromo walked back to the stone of weapons. With a simple gesture, his own blade appeared, dropping softly into his palm. "It has been decided, Sorin. We will go our ways, and we will not seek out one other. Our blades must be left. The cycle ends now." Hagoromo hefted his sword and rammed it into the stone with the others. The faint blue the seals that ran along the flat of the blade vanishing easily into the stone.

Sorin hesitated, looking at the sword, then bowed his head and turned away, as if ashamed.

"We chose this burden willingly. Well, we can choose to drop it if we wish."

"What do we tell the people?" Sorin asked. "What will they say of this day?"

"It's simple," Hagoromo said, walking away. "We tell them that they finally won. It's an easy enough lie. Who knows? Maybe it will turn out to be true."

Sorin watched the Sage depart across the burned landscape. Finally, he summoned his own blade, Kusanagi, and slammed it into the stone beside the others. He turned and walked in the direction opposite from Hagoromo.

And yet, he could not help glancing back at the ring of sword and the single open spot. The place where the fifth sword should have been.

The one of them who was lost. The one they had abandoned.

_Forgive us,_ Sorin thought, then left.

**End of Prologue**


	6. Gods Will be Watching Chapter One

**A/N: It seems things have finally kicked off.**

**Chapter One**

**Mistakes Have Been Made**

"Do you understand what needs to be done?"

"Yes."  
"This will be unlike any mission you've undertaken before. Are you sure you wish to accept it?"

"My mind has not changed."  
"What will you do in the event that the seal fails?"

"Whatever I have to."

"And if he discovers chakra on his own?"

"… I'll cross that bridge if it comes to it."

"That will have to due, I suppose. Though don't forget my advise. Are you ready?"

"I can leave with the boy now, if you want me to."

"Excellent."

**Line Break**

The evening sky shone with an uncountable amount of stars, speckled like miniature diamonds on an inky black canvas. To some it would have been considered beautiful, wondrous even. It was the kind of night sky that would inspire poets world 'round, and have them up to all hours of the morning writing about it, describing its beauty to the smallest and most intricate detail.

They would wax brilliant on how the stars seemed to swirl in an endless vortex around a central point. They would rant and rave until they were blue in the face and frothing at the mouth, screaming about how, in the center of that unnamed maelstrom, there was a single star, brighter than the rest, in which all other stars whirled around… like a maelstrom.

The beauty of the evening was quite lost on Hiruzen Sarutobi, Third Hokage of Konoha. He paced his office with slow, methodical steps; steps that hid his age well. For a ninja, death was an eventually, something to be planned for and met with a confident smirk firmly in place. That was probably why so many died young. Those that weren't killed only lived to become bitter, insane, or worse; take a position of leadership.

Sarutobi liked to believe that he'd done a good job during his time as Hokage. He'd seen to the ending of the third great ninja war, spearheaded the negotiations for peace treaties with two other great villages, and then seen that his hat, one of the many symbols of leadership, was passed down to a worthy successor.

Now he wore that hat once more.

It hadn't been because of incompetency on his successor's part. No, if anything, it was because he was too competent. Indeed, he'd, after a fashion, defeated the greatest of the nine beasts that stalked the elemental nations, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

That sobering thought brought Sarutobi back to why he was pacing the office he'd occupied years before, an office he hadn't expected or wanted to step foot in again. And he wouldn't have if the Kyuubi, the terrible fox with nine tails, hadn't attacked. At several stories tall and tails thicker than a man was tall, with claws that could rend a man to pieces with barely a passing, and a chakra supply far larger than anything on the planet could hope to match, killing the beast, even for a army of ninja, was a lost cause. And yet, his successor had defeated the creature. Not by brute force, but by cunning and the judicious use of a rather esoteric art.

The Fourth Hokage had sealed the demon inside of a newborn child. Not technically killing the beast, but imprisoning it so that it wasn't a threat. Sealing wasn't strictly speaking a new method for dealing with the nine beasts. The First Hokage and founder of Konoha had that dubious honor. But the Fourth Hokage had done so at a moment's notice, without any preparation. Unfortunately, The Dead Reaper's Seal had a rather steep price, a price that could only be paid once.

That was why Sarutobi wore the hat once more. With the death of Minato Namikaze, the late Hokage, he was once again called back to the position to deal with the fall out.

_And what a mess you've left me with._ Hiruzen thought, taking another puff on his pipe.

The use of tobacco was a habit both his predecessors and successor had tried to break him of. Both had failed in the end. Every ninja had one or more of their quirks, something or other to help them deal with the chaotic churn their lives invariably became. Smoking was one of his little habits; the incessant pacing was another. The nicotine helped him think, eased his mind, and let him focus on the task at hand.

At the moment, Sarutobi suspected that there wasn't enough tobacco on the planet to help him negotiate through the political and economic wreck the Kyuubi had heralded.

Konoha was, for a lack of a more functional term, in a state of utter disarray border-lining complete collapse, screwed. Although the demon had been defeated, the casualty reports from the battle were still coming in. It was going to take years; decades even, for their military to recover. Even the civilian sector, the section least affected by the battle, had taken quite the hit. Houses and markets were toppled like dominoes, brushed aside by the storm walls of the battle.

A soft chime, followed by a burst of static, came from the small communication box that sat on Sarutobi's desk drawing his attention.

"Sir," The soft voice of his secretary filtered through the line, "it's time. The council is reconvening."

Sarutobi sighed, taking another long draw on his pipe, held it in for a moment, before slowly letting the smoke out in a long stream.

"Tell them I'll be there in a moment." He said, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.

He was already old. And lately, quite tired. But he couldn't rest yet, his village needed him, and there were few as qualified as he to deal with the present crisis. He would see that his village was secure and then look for someone able to take his place. The upcoming meeting was going to decide the fate of the infant the Fourth had sealed the Kyuubi into, a child named Naruto Uzumaki. He had a second last name, but that wasn't exactly public knowledge at this point. And wouldn't be for a long time, if he had anything to say in the matter. It was far too risky.

Sarutobi sighed, letting out a stream of smoke, almost wishing he wasn't as politically savvy as he was. He already knew what the outcome of the meeting would be, and had planned accordingly. If they didn't kill the infant, making a hasty decision in rage and fear, they would make the child's life a living hell. Ostracism was the easiest and most effective method if were to gag the older generation from speaking of the child. It wasn't uncommon in these times, lamentably. However, most children didn't have an ancient beast with nearly unfathomable power sealed inside their chakra system with only a ink construct based upon the host's will holding it back. The fear was somewhat understandable.

Snuffing his pipe, Sarutobi tucked it into the loose folds of his white robe before striding over to the double doors that led out of his office and into the labyrinthine halls of the Hokage's Tower. He was heading back to yet another meeting, one of the seemingly never ending series of debates on how to best steer their sinking ship of a village, and this one was going to be the mind-numbing of them all.

**Line Break**

Sarutobi closed his eyes, leaning back slightly in his chair that sat at the forefront of a large circular table, letting the din of the arguing council members that were seated before him wash over him like a sickening miasma. So far things had progressed annoyingly predictably. A third of the council wanted the container, Naruto, dead, another third wanted him weaponized, and the final third refused to take a position on the matter.

"The child is a threat." Homura declared from his seat, adjusting the green-framed glasses that rested on his slightly sweaty nose while simultaneously brushing a few loose strands of gray hair back from his scalp. "We all know the Fourth Hokage was well known for his unparalleled skill in Sealing, however, I do not feel that we can entrust the safety of everyone in this village in the hands of a child that has yet to even walk. The mechanics of the seal and how it reacts to non-human chakra is an unknown variable that," Homura shot Sarutobi a brief, slightly contemptuous look, "our Hokage has been unwilling to disclose."

Sarutobi shifted slightly, the frustrating current lack of power to run the air-conditioning aggravating his already flaring temper, that only to be coupled with his growing frustration with the first of his two 'advisors' backhanded attempts at finagling the mechanics behind the most powerful containment seal invented to date from him.

"I have already explained as much as I'm going to about how the 'Dead Reaper's Seal' works. Anything further would risk details that shouldn't be leaked being discovered by those who would use it against us. I have already assured you all of the Seals security. That should be more than enough to allay any and all concerns you may have, or is my word not good enough for any of you?"

He let his words hang in the room like dead weights, each syllable draped across their shoulders like dense links in a heavy chain. The words of a Kage, even one as old as he, were law. If he said that the sky was green and the grass was blue, then to his subjects, they were.

Sarutobi found the current hegemony rather crude method of government, and that was why he had created the council, in an effort to move his country towards a more democratic government. A government that would, ideally, out last him and the next however many Kages it took to reshape his government into something that could look after itself, without a master overseer, but rather an elected body of trustworthy citizens.

One of the councilmen, Danzo, cleared his throat gently and clicked his cane on the floor for attention. Sarutobi locked eyes with Danzo's single brown one that wasn't covered by a bandage for a moment, before nodding for him to speak, in spite of the fact that he already knew what he was going to say. His old teammate was nothing if not predictable when it came to matters of defense.

Before speaking, Danzo adjusted the sling that kept his crippled right arm close to his chest, a memento of the last Great War along with the x-shaped scar on his chin. Sarutobi would have thought that the lost limb and facial scarring would have tempered Danzo's aggressive approach to politics, but if anything it had made him even more belligerent.

Sling in place, Danzo stood and regarded the assembly before saying, "If the child's Seal is secure, then I suggest that I be given custody of the boy. With my guidance I can make the boy an asset, instead of a weakness. I can raise him away from any outside influences that would otherwise corrupt him. At the same time, I can train him to control and dampen his emotions, that way would be very little chance for the Demon to influence him, if, as you say, the creature can only directly contact him if he is emotionally strained beyond his… limits."

Danzo spoke in a slow and steady voice that was almost a growl. His words carried across the room well, and people were nodding. Words Sarutobi would have given some measure of credence had he not known what _exactly_ Danzo put those who fell under his command through to gain such emotional control.

No, Danzo's was option was no option at all.

"Naruto will not be given into your protection, Councilman Danzo." Sarutobi announced, before anyone interject. "You keep your ROOT agents only at my discretion. I have been receiving rather disturbing reports from my informants regarding exactly how you _condition_ your subjects. I do not feel that he will grow properly with your tutelage. Now, unless you wish to disclose your operational parameters in front of the rest of the council, I suggest you resume your seat."

Danzo gave him a long, hard look before he sat, his index finger taping the head of his cane in apparent annoyance. Sarutobi may have taken some small measure of satisfaction from not letting Danzo dictate the direction of the meeting if they both didn't already know what the outcome was going to be.

Danzo had only made the suggestion that the boy be placed under his care in the off chance he managed to grab enough backing. However, the chance of him receiving two thirds of the councils backing was very remote. The chances of him receiving the Hokage's blessing as well – none existent.

"Now, let's be fair. I think Councilman Danzo's suggestion has some merit." Koharu, the second of his advisors, said, a frown crinkling her forehead to join with the rest of the wrinkles already present.

Koharu was a slightly below average height, standing at five foot six, with gray hair she kept tied up in a bun. She was dressed in the same white robes the rest were, but she chose to wear a simple green robe over her shoulders.

"Fair?" Sarutobi asked, a hint of incredulity hinted in his otherwise deep tones. "At what point during our discourse did you convince yourself that my goal was to be fair? This meeting was convened to decide in what environment we are going to raise the child. His death or emotional retardation was never up for debate. I have listened to your advice and decided that Naruto is to-"

His words were cut off by a knock at the door. After the council's murmur of displeasure at the interruption quieted, Sarutobi nodded to the ANBU standing by the exit, giving his silent assent that the messenger was to enter. The black robed guard moved in front of the door, discretely checking through a one-way spy hole before opening the door and admitting a scrawny, bespectacled man who was clutching a bloody strip of cloth to his chest, a red band wrapped around his left armed marked him as a medic.

"My Lord!" He exclaimed, his voice cracking with the panic etched on his face. "The Kyuubi Vessel's been killed!"

The room burst into a frenzy of commotion, each of the advisors demanding answers from each other or the medic, who, for his part, looked overwhelmed by the situation as a whole.

"Silence." Sarutobi commanded in an even tone that carried over the din like, his voice acting like an oppressive wave.

Once the room had quieted, he leveled his gaze at the quivering messenger and asked, "What happened?"

The messenger steadied himself, met his leader's unwavering eyes and replied; "Commander Hatake and ANBU guards were in a defensive position around the Vessel when I arrived to check his vitals." The medic paled as he recounted what came next, "I-I didn't see it coming. The ANBU in the back… He just kind of slumped over, didn't make a sound…. He just… died."

"An expert medical diagnosis." Danzo interrupted, "But you're becoming distracted. Continue with your story, keep the minor details for your report."

The medic gulped, nodded, and then continued, "The assassin dropped from the ceiling, his sword already drawn. The second ANBU managed to turn around before he lost his head. Kakashi drew his weapon but the assassin had a blade I've never seen before… It was far longer than any I've seen before, and it cut through Hatake's blade as if it weren't there. Another strike and Commander Hatake fell."

"How." Danzo asked critically.

"What?" The medic asked, thrown off what little stride he had.

"It was a simple enough question," Danzo said, narrowing his eye slightly. "How did Commander Hatake, a ninja with skill unlike any since the three Sannin, fall to some unnamed ninja with an," Danzo leaned forward slightly, placing his uninjured arm on the table and glaring at the medic, "'blade far longer than a domestic medic has ever seen?"

The medic furrowed his brows, agitation at being called out as incompetent in front of the council overriding his fear for the moment.

"Commander Hatake fell to a lateral slash to his upper right torso, severing the trapezius and cutting into the left external carotid and left subclavian arteries. Followed shortly by a palm thrust to the nose, breaking the cartilage and shoving it into the Commander's brain. Death was nearly instantaneous. I doubt he knew what hit him. The commander was unprepared for his opponent's attack and-."  
"Enough." Sarutobi said, shooting Danzo a quelling look. "We are drifting from the subject of this interview. We can ascertain all the events at a later point. For now, continue with the recount."

The medic nodded, emboldened by the Hokage coming to his aid, "After the assassin killed Commander Hatake, he used a short fire jutsu on the crib where I was to check the vessel." The medic paled again. "The child's screams… I haven't heard anything like it."

The medic went silent, his eyes glazing over slightly, seemingly lost in his memory.

"Is that all?" Sarutobi asked, startling the medic from his memories.

"Y-Yes. After he… incinerated the child, he left. Just… disappeared. I've never seen a Shunshin like it."

Sarutobi nodded curtly, dismissing the medic. Once the ANBU had removed the nearly insensate medic from the room, he turned to Danzo, his old comrade meeting his eyes with a steely expression. Danzo had no doubt called his bluff. It wasn't terribly difficult if one was suspicious enough. Hatake most likely hadn't expected the medic to arrive early and had been rushed with his genjutsu, evidenced by the medics continued use of the phrase, 'unlike anything I've ever seen'. That coupled with the absent mindedness and dilated pupils; it indicated a hastily constructed illusion. Only Danzo and maybe Shikaku, his war general, would have been suspicious enough to question the medic's word.

Danzo would keep his silence. Naruto was already gone and far out his control. No, the councilman would hold his peace for the present, keep what he knew to himself and hold it as leverage to keep his ROOT activities running. Which was fine, Sarutobi would let Danzo think that he had gained the upper hand today. It would only work to his benefit later. But first, a little harmless hunt to distract his old 'friend' for the time being.

"Councilman Danzo," Sarutobi said, "You are to investigate the scene with the aid of both the Inuzuka clan and one of the Nara. I expect a full report by morning. You are all dismissed."

As the room shuffled around, collecting their things to leave, Sarutobi stood and exited through the back, entering a private hallway that would take him to his room. Stepping into his office, he glanced out the large window that overlooked Konoha, his eyes drawn to once place in particular. Konoha's gates, where, no doubt, Kakashi would have already departed. With a nod of his head and a softly spoken Godspeed, Sarutobi took his seat and resumed his work, going over the damage reports with a grim determination.

**Line Break**

Kakashi allowed himself a slight smile as the cart ground to a stop. The action was one he rarely indulged in lately. The road, which had incidentally kicked up more dust than he usually tolerated in his prematurely white hair, had certainly been long enough to drain him of what little enthusiasm he'd once possessed.

Tucking the reigns in the holster just before him, Kakashi leaned back against the headrest and closed his left eye, the one that wasn't covered by a black patch. Usually he had a headband to hide his scar, but a marking of Konoha would draw far too much attention. So for now, he'd just have to settle for looking like a stereotypical ex-pirate.

A high pitched wail came from the back of the cart as his 'charge' made its displeasure at the stop and lack of nutrition known… again. Kakashi threw a brief glare at the child; wrapped in a blanket and nestled in a niche he'd made in between a few chests he'd stuffed the child in the other day in preparation for the journey, small tufts of blond hair sticking out at odd angles. An hour. What he wouldn't give for just a single hour's peace? He was a soldier, trained to kill and protect. Child rearing was something he was quickly discovering he was quite ill prepared for.

Kakashi threw another, this time a much more benign, glance at his mentor's son. That child was his deceased leader's only surviving legacy, and Kakashi felt that he owed the kid something for what his father had given him. That was why he had accepted the Third Hokage's offer to protect the boy, at least until he was ready to return to Konoha or was ready to face the world on his own. Looking at the infant, unable to even walk, the prospect of Naruto being able to take on even a dragonfly seemed… unlikely.

Kakashi hopped out of the cart and began unloading it, placing the luggage in front of where he planned to build a home. The patch of land was far enough away from nearest village that he would be considered a recluse at best, an eccentric hermit at worse. Setting down one of the chests, Kakashi reached up and tugged the half mask that hid his face off. It was ironic, really. The bit of cloth that hid his identity had over the years become one his most distinguishing features.

_ That and my fantastic hair._ Kakashi thought, chuckling slightly as he stuffed the mask in his back pocket. _Perhaps a beard? Nah… far to cliché. Besides, the ladies will never go for a beard._

Placing the last of his cargo on the ground, Kakashi surveyed the small plot of land. It wasn't anything spectacular at the moment, but with an earth jutsu here and a water jutsu there, it could become something almost passable for a yard. Nothing too fancy, but it should be enough to satisfy at least some of the quota outlined in a few books he'd read on suitable property for child raising.

Naruto's cries increased in intensity, obviously not enjoying being ignored by his newest guardian.

"I'm coming. I'm coming. Just… be quiet for a moment." Kakashi said wearily, casting about for the chest that he'd put the kid's bottle in earlier.

"This is going to be harder than I'd thought it would be." He noted glumly, scratching his head as he peered at the chests, which had chosen this moment to, magically it seemed, all transform to look the exact same.

**End of Chapter One**

**A/N: Good? Bad? Worth continuing? Any criticism would be much appreciated.**


	7. Gods Will be Watching Interlude

**A/N: This chapter was quite difficult to write for me. I knew what I wanted out of it, the problem I am/was facing, is where to place it along the plotline. Too early, and it spoils quite a bit. Too late and it's redundant.**

_I'm becoming insane. Remind me the story, so that I don't lose my…_

**Interlude I**

Dying, Hagoromo noted, was a lot more boring than he thought it would be. After he'd given his two sons his last words, bid them farewell and prepared to depart to the great beyond, he'd found himself here. And frankly, he'd expected something a bit… more. Death was lacking its muchness.

He hadn't known quite what to expect, to be honest. He'd pulled so many people back from the brink so many times the concept of mortality had diminished in his eyes.

They told him it had become painful, death. That with each new passing the torture became worse and he believed them. He saw the lights in his friend's eyes dimming, like a candle reaching the end of the wick.

Hagoromo glanced around the white expanse he'd found himself in. There wasn't a sky. Indeed, there didn't even seem to be a ground though he was obviously something solid beneath him to keep him from continually falling.

"I really must thank you, human. You played your part marvelously." A light-hearted, honeyed voice spoke from behind him.

Instincts flaring to life, Hagoromo spun on the spot, sliding easily into a defensive stance while thrusting out his right hand summoning his blade and reaching for his chakra, only to be brought up short when he slammed into a wall where the ocean of his chakra should have been.

"Being dead does have certain disadvantages, doesn't it?" The voice asked casually, a hint of mockery in its voice.

Hagoromo's eyes snapped to where a man sat in a large black, high backed chair. With the wide arms and plush seating, it appeared more throne than seat. It simply lacked the ostentation a throne required. The youthful man who sat in the chair regarded him with cool blue eyes, accented by a prematurely lined face, sharp nose, and delicate eyebrows. The man sat with his head rested back against the chair. He appeared tall and thin, though his height was difficult to ascertain from a seated position. He wore a stiff black coat and black trousers, a color matched by his deep onyx hair.

"Who are you?" Hagoromo asked, not loosening his stance despite being all but defenseless.

The man cocked his head to the side, inspecting Hagoromo like a bird inspects a shiny object.

"I've had many names and titles, though you may know me as Shinju."

Hagoromo's brow furrowed in thought. He knew that name, only in his mind it belonged to a fruit.

"So you do remember me." Shinju said, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

Hagoromo raised an eyebrow slightly. Were his thoughts that transparent?

"I don't understand." Hagoromo said slowly.

"You should make a shirt with that phrase on it." Shinju commented, the smile widening.

"The Shinju was the fruit from which chakra came from. My mother took it to end the wars, but it spawned the Juubi." Hagoromo's expression darkened. "I defeated and split the Juubi so that it will never become a problem again. You cannot be Shinju."

Shinju's smile grew even wider, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's true, you defeated the Juubi, just as I expected. You see, you humans are quite predictable. All you have to do is place something in plain view, tell everyone not to touch it, then sit back and wait. Eventually someone won't be able to resist the temptation."

"You were the Shinju fruit." Hagoromo said.

"No. I'm a god, not a fruit." Shinju said patronizingly. "The fruit was the first layer of a prison, the Juubi was the warden. Now I'm free, just incomplete for the present."

"What do you mean?" Hagoromo asked.

"Chakra is a finite source so long as it rests in my hands. I was wrapped in my own power and imprisoned. But chakra in it's finiteness it can grow, expand, in a human's hands, given time."

"What do you gain out of any of this?" Hagoromo asked.

"Nothing." Shinju responded lightly, shrugging lightly. "Nothing that wasn't already mine. The Juubi was only the first step. The queen's sacrifice to control the rest of the board, you might say."

Hagoromo dropped his stance, raising himself to stand at his full height, locking eyes with the acclaimed Shinju, and renewing his efforts to get at his chakra. He could almost feel it. Hagoromo may have been dead, but there was still something left for him to do, one last act before the end truly came.

"If you are responsible for the Juubi, then you seek to destroy the world." Hagoromo accused.

"Ah, Sage," Shinju said, its voice almost fatherly in tone. "You act as if I were your enemy."

"You are my enemy. You seek to end the things I love."

"And is an ending always bad?" It asked. "Must not all things, even worlds, someday end? Do not mourn because the day of this world's end is arriving. That end was ordained the very day of its conception. There is a beauty in death – the beauty of finality, the beauty of completion. For thing is truly complete until the day it is finally destroyed."

"I won't let that happen." Hagoromo declared, mentally slamming himself at the wall again. "I destroyed the Juubi, your side of this war lost years ago."

"You still don't understand, I see. You're **all** on my side, Sage. I helped create you. You're my tools- each and every one of you. Keeba, Sorin, you, your dear wife and sons." Shinju said simply, tapping the armrest of his chair with an idle finger.

"That all might be true." Hagoromo said, countering Shinju's smile with one of his own, "but you've made one critical mistake."

"Doubtful." Shinju said flatly.

"I can't decide if you're a fool, or if you simply exist in a way that makes you incapable of considering some things." Hagoromo said, grinding away at the last bit of the wall. He was so close he could almost feel the energy now.

Crossing his legs and dropping to the floor, Hagoromo placed his hands on his knees, his white robe rumbled beneath him. Finally, Hagoromo let the smile drop. "You said that you helped create us, where is your partner? If you are Shinju, destruction, as you claim, then logically there must be an oppositional force."

"Why?" Shinju asked, his smile never faltering nor the twinkle in his eyes sharping.

"Drop the act." Hagoromo demanded, a light blue haze of chakra drifting from his body. "You haven't won yet. And I'm far from done."

Shinju regarded him flatly, all humor leaving his eyes. After a moment silence he said in a deadened voice, "You were right that there is opposition, only the last opponent died and now you've taken her place. Welcome to godhood." With a swiping dismissal motion of his hand, Hagoromo vanished. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

**End of Interlude**


	8. Gods Will be Watching Chapter Two

A/N: **Hello, friends, how's it going? For those worrying that I may be adding OC's, don't. I'm merely laying down Naruto's and Kakashi's personality, as well as flushing out the physics I'll be using for this story.**

**Chapter Two**

**Chakra**

Lightning cracked across the sky with a whip like snap shaking Kakashi from his sleep. Sitting up and pushing the hair from his eyes, he cast a glance out the window where the storm was rolling in full swing. Idly watching one of the oak trees sway violently back and forth in the wind, Kakashi began his count down from twenty, waiting for the expected telltale light footfalls to come down the hall.

It turned out that he didn't have to wait that long, Naruto was down the hall and catapulting his way across the room before Kakashi had even reached ten. The four-year-old had leapt onto his bed and buried himself under the bedding, cuddling up Kakashi's right leg, blue eyes peeking out, before saying, his voice trembling in fear, "Kashi! Is it going to get us?"

Kakashi wondered briefly what the child was talking about before glancing out the window once more. The storm was a bad one, worse than any Naruto would have seen to date. Was the boy afraid of lightning? It seemed a little too improbable. A child that by virtue of his dual natures had the potential should he unlock his chakra would hold the greatest fighting potential of his generation.

"No, Naruto." Kakashi said softly, resting a hand on top of the blanket where the boy's head would be.

**Line Break**

"Kashi, when's it going to be ready?" A plaintive, child's voice asked from where he sat at the dinning room's table.

"It'll be ready when it's ready and not a moment before, Naruto." Kakashi responded with an even tone of his own as he lifted the lid of a pot and checked the progress of its contents.

"Hurry!" Naruto called out, bouncing his fork and spoon off the table top, "School starts soon! I can't be late for my first day!"

"Patience, kiddo." Kakashi admonished the child as he drew a knife from the stand and began slicing through the celery at a pace that would make a professional chief jealous.

The last eight years since leaving Konoha had been one lesson after another for the ex-ANBU commander. One of them was acquiring a far more diverse cooking arsenal. It turned out that young children didn't enjoy living on scavenged food, berries, and the preserved rations that Kakashi had grown used to throughout his life on the road, moving from mission to mission.

"But Kashi!" Naruto cried, bouncing up and down in his seat, "I'm gonna be late!"

Patience and the ability to ignore whatever the hell he desired was another skill he'd acquired. Out of all the new talent's he'd picked up, he felt this was by far the most useful.

"Naruto, if you don't sit down, stop denting my table, and be quiet, you're going to be doing push-ups until I'm finished. How do you like that arrangement?"

Both the banging and the bouncing stopped. However, the child began to radiate an aura of sullenness, which told Kakashi that he'd only bought his table a few moments' safety before Naruto would decide that the benefits outweighed the risks. With a sigh, Kakashi took off his oven mitts, ran a hand through his hair and turned to face the child.

Naruto was half sitting on the chair, half laying on the table, blond hair sticking up in sharp, frayed spikes, two pin-point blue orbs glaring at him from under the mop. It had always amazed Kakashi how Naruto's hair seemed to respond to his mood, becoming limp when he was sad or feeling down, then sticking up when he was excited or annoyed. Kakashi would have passed comment long ago, but who was he to judge? Kakashi's own hair seemed perfectly content, wet or dry, to look like a sideways tsunami.

"Naruto," Kakashi said, not unkindly, "How do you expect me to give you breakfast when you're laying on my table like a dog? Besides, you're wrinkling your clothes. Do you want to show up to school on your first day looking like a crack in the street?"  
"NO!" Naruto hollered, picking himself off the table and patting his purple vest, doing his best to straighten out his gray undershirt.

"I thought not." Kakashi deadpanned.

"But Kashi, I'm going to be late."

Kakashi smiled indulgently before saying, "And do you know what people think of late people?"

Naruto frowned before shaking his head.

"Well," Kakashi said, grinning. "People think those who are late are really cool, and that they were probably off doing something nice, like helping old ladies across the street."

Naruto's frown became a scowl. "That doesn't seem right." He said, "What if they don't believe you?"

"Then you shrug and move on with class." Kakashi responded breezily as he turned back to the stove and pulled the pot off the burner, quickly scooping out a serving for both himself and his charge.

Placing one of the bowls in front of Naruto, Kakashi took a seat opposite the boy and set down his own bowl, steepling his fingers in front of his face to wait for his meal to cool. Naruto didn't bother with waiting and was quickly punished for his impatience.

The spray of chicken noodle soup hit Kakashi like a wave. Blinking the salty meal from his eyes, Kakashi resisted the urge to yell at the boy. It was for times like this that he REALLY missed his mask. At least it would have shielded his face from part of the deluge.

"Naruto…. kiddo" Kakashi said slowly, doing his very best to keep his temper in the face of the boy frantically trying to cool his tongue, "I feel that this is a fantastic moment for a lesson. What _exactly_ have you learned from this?"

Naruto gave him a blank expression.

"I'll tell you what." Kakashi said friendly, smiling through his teeth at him. "Why don't you get a little physical exercise while you think about it? Tell me your answer when you return."

"What?" Naruto asked.

"School. Run." Kakashi said shortly, enunciating each word clearly and precisely while smiling through his teeth. "Answer when you get back."

Naruto continued to look at him as if he'd grown a second head. Clearly not getting the meaning behind the broken sentences. Perhaps some physical motivation would clue the boy in.

Kakashi lunged across the table, Naruto barely managing to slide between his fingers and scamper out of the door, slamming it shut as he left. He lay on the table for a few moments before a light chuckle shook his frame. Honestly, that boy was going to be the death of him. Countless enemy ninja had tried, but his teacher's son was going to succeed without even trying.

With a deft hand motion to form a seal and a flare of chakra, Kakashi flickered to a stand still by the kitchen door. Another hand-seal and the soup with all of its contents floated across the room in thin, tendril like, waves only to a stop over the sink, coagulating like some amorphous conglomeration of poultry, vegetables, and broth. Cutting the supply of chakra, he allowed the meal to collapse into the basin and flow down the drain, a mornings effort perfectly wasted.

"Maybe I'm not quite as patient as I'd like to believe." Kakashi grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he ambled out of the kitchen and into the living room. A quick ascension up the stairs and a turn to the right saw him into his room.

Closing the door behind him, Kakashi tugged off his broth-infused shirt and tossed into the hamper as he stepped into the bathroom. Flicking on the sink, he wet a rag he pulled from the towel rack behind him. Once the rag was soaking he began to clean himself, face and chest. He wasn't dirty enough to warrant taking a full shower, but all the same he didn't want to smell like soup.

Satisfied that he was presentable, Kakashi drew himself up and looked in the mirror, familiar brown eye regarding him lazily. He'd been called tall before, although he didn't see it. Everyone else was just short. His prematurely gray hair appeared to be sticking up and leaning against an imaginary wall. It was always like that, even if he spent the time to slick it down, it would eventually fight its way back up. So, true to his nature, he skipped the effort and let his hair do what it wanted. Kakashi's eye drifted downwards to his torso, eyeing the little bits of fat that had crept in around his waist with a disapproving eye.

He'd been getting lazy over the past few years. Complacency was going to be the death of him. He wasn't on a vacation, as he had to keep reminding himself. This was a long-term protection mission that if he and Naruto were found, who knew how many villages would take the risk to eliminate the both of them.

Exiting the bathroom, Kakashi reentered the bedroom, navigated his way around the bed and removed a sleeveless black shirt from his drawer by the nightstand. Pulling it over his head, Kakashi decided that it was probably best if he broke the trend of nothing and probably get in a workout while Naruto was gone. The boy still knew nothing about what he was and what, should he ever unlock his chakra, he could do.

**Line Break**

Naruto sat low on his chair, tapping the desk with his left index finger in agitation as he glared forward. He was very quickly becoming disenchanted with the whole _school_ thing. What he'd built up as a wondrous bastion of knowledge and potential friends was quickly turning out to become a place of boredom and irritation. Kakashi, or Kashi as Naruto's near lifelong pet name for his father figure went, had tried to warn him that it wouldn't be as great as he thought it would be, saying that his home teachings were far better than any standardized lectures were going to be.

It had taken nearly two years for him to convince Kashi to let him go. Naruto had wanted to learn with the other kids in the town. He hadn't had a real friend other than Kashi before, and wanted to know what it was like. However, it was looking like, once again, Kashi had been right. School wasn't all that much fun. Didn't his lazy uncle ever get anything wrong?

Naruto sat at the back left corner, row eight, seat one, tucked into a little desk that he swore was slowly closing in around him, conspiring with the stupid purple vest to strangle him.

The teacher, a middle aged townswoman dressed in a long, green skirt and matching blouse, her brown hair done up in a tight bun at the back of her head, was currently droning on about how they were going to begin working on higher multiplication. Kashi had taught him higher multiplication when he was four, and he hadn't made him wear this stupid uniform either. Sure it was colorful, something Kashi seemed to disapprove of for some reason or another, and Naruto had liked it at first. But now it was all stiff and stuffy. Naruto tugged his undershirt's color absentmindedly. If he could just loosen… it… up a little.

"Naruto," Mrs. Kaito's, the teacher, voice cracked, her emerald eyes glittering almost predatorily at him, "am I boring you?"

"Yes." Someone in the class said. Naruto realized it was him. His brain was more than a little numb and had apparently decided to answer truthfully.

The teacher gave him a long, long look before saying in a stiff voice, "Detention, Mr. Hatake." Then she returned to her lecture.

Naruto blinked. What was detention? Glancing around the classroom, the looks the other student's were shooting him over their shoulder ranged from awe to pity. Whatever this 'detention' was, Naruto was fairly sure he didn't want it.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Naruto asked, "What's detention?"

The teacher scowled and shot him an annoyed glance. "I understand that this is your first year, Mr. Hatake, but it should have been obvious enough that you are not to interrupt your instructor. You are behind enough already if your test results are any indication."

Naruto hid a frown, passing over the fact that she hadn't answered what exactly a detention was. _What test_? The simple questions Naruto had barely bothered with this morning? He'd thought they were a joke. It was something Kashi would do.

"I know this stuff." He said, waving his hand dismissively at the board. "It's easy."

The tendons in the teacher's neck began to strain, along a vein to pulse in her temple. That wasn't good. Kashi did the same when he had said something wrong or inappropriate. He'd never been very good at gauging situations. Naruto resisted the urge to scratch the back of his head. He seemed to have a talent in saying things that angered people.

"Mr. Hatake, you will remain after school. I'm going to call your father and we are going to have a little discussion about your attitude."

"Kashi's not my dad." Naruto said, folding his arms in front of his chest. "My mum and dad died when I was born. Kashi's my uncle and looks after me. He said it had something to do with a promise or whatever."

Mrs. Kaito's expression softened slightly.

"We will still be having a discussion. If this is easy, as you say, then we may see about placing you in a more advanced class. Either way, we need to talk about your attitude and conduct."

Naruto nodded and relaxed back into his chair, letting Mrs. Kaito's voice fade to a dull hum in the background as she resumed the lecture. He apparently couldn't trust his mouth for the present and it would better if he didn't say anything.

**Line Break**

Kakashi strode down the abandoned hall of Naruto's new school, the sound of each footfall echoing with a harsh snap as he made his way towards the principles room, his overcoat swishing asynchronously. It was probably fortunate that no one was in the hall with him, as they would have undoubtedly asked him what was wrong. An interruption Kakashi wasn't entirely certain he could tolerate at the moment.

He had expected, planned even, that Naruto wasn't going to fit in. The boy was reckless, impulsive, and had a habit of not being able to keep his mouth shut when he should. Kakashi knew of few ways besides starting Naruto's training early to curb those habits, so he bore them as they came with as much stoicism as he could muster.

If it were only Naruto that troubled him at present, he wouldn't have been so angry.

Kakashi was not a superstitious man, despite what others back at Konoha might say to the contrary. Usually the adage 'trouble comes in threes' was scoff worthy to him. But… today had him on edge.


	9. Untitled

**A/N: **

"It is an undeniable, and may I say _fundamental,_ quality of man, that when faced with extinction… every alternative is preferable."

**Prologue**

**A Memo to the Chairman of the Oversight sub-committee from the Director of Staff:**

**Line Break**

A large screen flickered to life on what was otherwise a bare wall, throwing the black haired man who sat on a mat several meters away, his back turned to the monitor into sharp relief. The light cast by the screen illuminating his plain white shirt.

"Your red herring has been found, Agent Seven." The white screen drawled in what was, ostensibly, an American southern drawl. "It does lend some credence to the fable you've been telling us these years. However, as always, your work thus far has been above reproach. That is why we are allowing you to deal with the situation as you see fit to obtain your answers. We will expect a report on everything you uncover."

The screen went black once more, leaving the two common eternal companions, silence and darkness, to dance in the void.

"At last." Agent Seven's whispered quietly to himself. "Welcome back to the world, old friend. Things have changed since you abandoned us and left the world to ruin, and you have much to answer for."

**Chapter One**

**Ghosts of the Past**

_Sometimes, I worry that I'm not the hero everyone thinks I am. Danzo's and the Hokage's teachings assure me that this is the right moment. But I still wonder if I'm the right man for it. So many people depend on me. If I step up, I will hold the future of the entire world on my arms._

_What would they think if they knew that their unwitting champion – the hokage's bodyguard, their savior- doubted himself? Perhaps they wouldn't be shocked at all. In a way, this is what worries me the most. Maybe, in their hearts, they wonder – just as I do._

_When they see me, do they see a liar?_

**Line Break**

Doctor Zuwit Bernisky strode down the gray, uninteresting hallways that made up the government research facility. He stepped at what he'd managed to convince himself was _not_ a hurried pace in spite of his slightly labored breathing the spoke otherwise.

Zuwit rubbed the scratchy stubble that he'd accumulated over the past three days as he shot a surreptitious glance at the small bundle of pages he held in a clenched right hand. The papers in his hand that detailed what he was working on… now what was written there _was_ interesting. He subconsciously quickened his pace, eager to get to where he'd spent the last three days studying what a week ago he'd thought medically impossible. There was now only one obstacle in his way now that had been proving itself the reoccurring metaphorical thorn in his side.

Zuwit came to a halt outside just in front tinted, bulletproof glass wall, where, to the far right, was a small cutout window opening where the glass wasn't tinted, revealing a desk where a man into his early thirties lay sleeping, hands wrapped under his face, a small line a drool oozing down the side of his mouth and dark green security cap pulled over his eyes.

In the three short days Zuwit had spent at this facility, he'd been constantly amazed at how, in what was usually such micromanaged base, they could employ this particular example of humanity.

Zuwit leaned forward towards the microphone built into the bulletproof glass and cleared his throat loudly in an attempt to rouse the guard.

Johnson's nose twitched slightly, but otherwise remained unresponsive.

"Mr. King." Zuwit spoke the guards name sharply into the microphone.

Another twitch.

Zuwit closed his eyes and sighed. Physical altercations rarely solved anything in his experience, but in Johnson's case, he felt that it was one of the few exceptions.

It was some small measure of pleasure that Zuwit took as Johnson nearly fell out of his chair when he rapped on the glass with his knuckles, startling the sleeping check-man into waking.

Blinking blearily while rubbing away the saliva on his jaw, Johnson straightened himself on his seat while regarding Zuwit blankly.

"Wha?" Johnson mumbled.

Zuwit grimaced slightly; appalled at the general state the man seemed content to operate at.

"Hello again, Mr. King." Zuwit said as he withdrew his company I.D card from his lab coat's pocket and slid it under the small slit at the base of the glass, a bit more annoyance projecting in his voice than what he would have liked.

Johnson stared at the card for a moment before he seemed to remember himself and his job. Picking the card up, Johnson stared at it intently, putting up the façade that he actually cared about his job.

Zuwit shuffled through the papers impatiently as he waited for slack-jawed dimwit to check him through. He'd been through here everyday at exactly the same time for the past three days. Unless his face had drastically changed, beyond growing a few bristles, without asking for his permission first, Zuwit didn't think it too cumbersome to at least remember he'd been through here yesterday and put a little more effort in his work.

"Mr… D'wit, so nice to see you again." Johnson said putting the I.D card down on the desk, idly tapping the phone with his right hand while slowly scrolling through a Rolodex with his left.

_Who even uses a Rolodex anymore_? Zuwit ground out mentally.

He breathed out, doing his best to keep his temper under control. He was studying the greatest archeological, biological, and historical find to date, and the only thing standing between him and future discovery was this pistol toting pinhead.

"It's Doctor. To you, my name is Doctor Zuwit, although, I can understand how you could be mixing D'wit with the common word and my estimate of your intelligence."

Zuwit ran a hand through his white and only slightly unwashed hair. "Now, if you would please expedite your efforts, upgrade to a computer, and let me through this door so I can make history, I would be greatly appreciate it."

"Ah, yes. The super secret project." Johnson said disinterestedly, finally stopping on a card and pulling it out. "It's just a block of ice with some really old kid inside from what I've heard."

Zuwit clicked his teeth together and tried to repress his irritation with the numbskull in front of him. First off, that information was classified. Zuwit would personally hang the one responsible for having a particularly loose pair of lips.

"Wasn't he wearing a jumpsuit and a cape or something?" Johnson continued absentmindedly as he jotted Zuwit's information down on a sign in sheet.

Zuwit clenched his teeth. Wherever the fool was getting his information, they were obviously on the research team. Zuwit would be having a discussion with the director later this evening on proper security measures, and while he was it at, he would see to it that Johnson was overseeing the security of the toilets, not the security of what was of possibly of greater import than the invention of the Internet.

"That is one lucky kid, if you ask me." Johnson continued, a slight smirk on his face. "Never mind the fact that he was found by a passing cruiser in the artic, but that the freezer failed and he thawed out." Johnson chucked, shaking his head. "But then that same kid actually woke up and is now here, under our delightful care, perfectly at ease."

"Thank you, Johnson. That is quite enough." Zuwit said impatiently. He had been wrong. The toilets were too good for the imbecilic guard.

"Oh, right. Sorry, Mr. D'wit, you can go on through." Johnson said, pushing the I.D card back under the glass and waving him away with an indifferent air.

"Thank you." Zuwit said stiffly collecting his pass and replacing it in his breast pocket.

As he passed under the metal detector, Zuwit couldn't help but turn glare through the glass pane, opening his mouth to get the last word.

"I'm having a meeting with the director this evening. I'll be sure to mention how invaluable your attentive services are this evening and how much we need you." Said Zuwit, lacing the word 'attentive' with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Johnson turned and waved a lazy goodbye.  
"Acceptable losses, Mr. Zuwit."

Zuwit blinked. For a moment of a second, he could have sword he saw a flash of red, but that was impossible. The lights this far underground constantly regulated a steady, moderate tone, and there hadn't been a sound of alarm.

"You feel alright, Doctor Dimwit?" Johnson asked, cocking his head to the side slightly.

"I'm fine." Zuwit said crossly, turning away and progressing deeper into the lab.

Zuwit rubbed his right temple as the doors swung open in front of him. Honestly, any talk with the sorry excuse for security personnel was almost always guaranteed to end in headache for everyone involved but the dimwit in question.

**Line Break**

Sargent Victor O'Reilly stood at the back of the observation room, ironically, or so he liked to think, observing the doctors bustling about from one read-out display to another like the chickens at his family's ranch when they were looking for corn. In fact, the scientists were more like chickens the more he thought about it; in so much that they skittered around, looking for things they couldn't have.

O'Reilly shot an unsettled glance through the viewing window where the blond haired, blue eyed demon sat on a white chair in the middle of the empty room, still staring at the wall, as he'd been doing for the last several hours. The strange symbols that extended from the center of where his stomach would be, stretching and weaving in an exotic pattern up to his shoulders and back down his back again still pulsed a very, very faint red. The only break in the pattern was the long, jagged scar that reached from his right shoulder, extending in a parabola to his left hip. Years of experience had familiarized him with that kind of wound. That kind of injury was only obtained by being at the wrong end of either a long knife or a thin sword.

O'Reilly shuddered slightly, no more than a twitch of the arms that made him grip his rifle a little harder. He wasn't a superstitious person by nature, nor was he easily spooked. Back during the early days of his career, he hadn't even so much as flinched when he'd been ordered to assault an enemy camp with only himself and three other men. But this thing… it unnerved him.

At least they gave the subject the dignity of wearing pants, although that was currently up for debate. The… thing didn't seem to respond to outside stimulus. Since they'd discovered that he'd somehow survived being completely frozen for God knows how long, they only response of any kind they'd been able to get from him was a flicker of the eyes when they'd injected him with a anesthetizing agent for transport. It had cause a minor stir when, even when they'd given him enough to knock out a horse, he hadn't so much as yawned. It wasn't natural. It wasn't _human._

Victor shot another look out the window. Subject Four, or so the eggheads had named him, certainly looked human enough. Although, from what he could understand from the medical babble the scientists rattled off to one another, the markings that ran along his body wasn't a tattoo. It was actually part of his system, somehow integrated with his skin, although, what it was doing was anyone's guess.

Victor blinked, doing his best not to think about what he was guarding.

That was when the slight hiss of the entrance signaled the return of doctor Zuwit, forcing O'Reilly to suppress a flicker of annoyance.

Scientists, as a rule it seemed, enjoyed using over large or complicated words when a much simpler word would have sufficed. Zuwit was the worst of the lot. The diminutive, white haired, civilian, medical doctorate seemed to enjoy flaunting the fact that he was _invited_ to take part in this discovery because he was 'the foremost expert in biological reconstruction and DNA analysis.' O'Reilly just thought he was a quack that was riding the glory train.

"Alright," Doctor Zuwit said, clapping his hands as he strode into the room, "Have you finished the outer epidermis scans and taken another blood sample? I need to know how his immune system is taking to the new pathogens. Also, we have to watch for any decay that we might have missed.

Victor could almost hear the other scientists rolling their eyes at Zuwit's speech. They were professionals, of course they were monitoring for any skin and internal organ decay that might have been caused by being frozen for who knew how long. The ice alone was purported to have been frozen in that formation for at least a couple thousand years, perhaps longer. The clothing he was wearing was of some concern, but spectral analysis put the orange clothing and cape at about the same age as the ice, which was impossible because the technology hadn't even been fathomed of that long ago.

_Epidermis._ Victor thought scathingly, returning his attention back to watching the door. _Why couldn't he have simply said 'skin'. Everyone knows what he would have meant._

"We'll also need several more samples of blood taken, immediately." Zuwit continued, walking over to one of the many computers that lined the wall in front of the one-way mirror.

"But, sir," one of the scientists, Beriski, said, turning to face his superior, "we've already taken the maximum amount we can safely remove today. Any more-"

"Acceptable losses, Beriski. Acceptable losses."

**Consider removing (start)**

Beriski's reply, whatever it might have been, was cut off as a mic, one that hadn't seen a single use to date, crackled into life. "Who are you?"

Every head, including O'Reilly's snapped to the mirror, where Subject Four was standing, staring at the right wall with something akin to confusion in his eyes.

"Where am I?" He asked, his eyes darting around the room briefly before returning to the same section of wall.

O'Reilly frowned as the scientists burst into motion around him, twiddling with their dials and clicking away with the computers, documenting and recording the subjects every move. To him, it seemed like the subject was looking at someone he thought to be by the wall.

**Consider removing (end)**

**Line Break**


End file.
